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MOTHER WEST WIND 
“WHERE” STORIES 


BOOKS BY 

THORNTON W. BURGESS 


BEDTIME STORY-BOOKS 

1. The Adventures of Reddy Fox 

2. The Adventures of Johnny Chuck 

3. The Adventures of Peter Cottontail 

4. The Adventures of Unc’ Billy Possum 

5. The Adventures of Mr. Mocker 

6. The Adventures of Jerry Muskrat 

7. The Adventures of Danny Meadow Mouse 

8. The Adventures of Grandfather Frog 

9. The Adventures of Chatterer, the Red 

Squirrel 

10. The Adventures of Sammy Jay 

11. The Adventures of Buster Bear 

12. The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad 

13. The Adventures of Prickly Porky 

14. The Adventures of Old Man Coyote 

15. The Adventures of Paddy the Beaver 

16. The Adventures of Poor Mrs. Quack 

{Other volumes in preparation ) 


OLD MOTHER WEST WIND SERIES 

1. Old Mother West Wind 

2. Mother West Wind’s Children 

3. Mother West Wind’s Animal 

Friends 

4. Mother West Wind’s Neighbors 

5. Mother West Wind “Why” Stories 

6. Mother West Wind “How” Stories 

7. Mother West Wind “When” Stories 
































. ; I 


r 














“ Then there was a crash, and everybody’s eyes 
flew open.” 

Frontispiece. See Page 2 ^ 3 . 


BURGESS trade QUADDIES mark 


MOTHER WEST WIND 
“WHERE” STORIES 


BY 

THORNTON WP BURGESS 

Author of “ Old Mother West Wind,” 
“ The Bed Time Story-Books,” etc. 


Illustrations in Color by 
HARRISON CADY 


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BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
1918 




Copyright , 1918, 

By Littub, Brown, and Company. 


All rights reserved 


SEP 25 


ISIS 


©GU 50 1908 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Where Grandfather Frog Got 

His Big Mouth 1 

II. Where Miser the Trade Rat 

First Set Up Shop ... 17 

III. Where Yap- Yap the Prairie Dog 

Used His Wits ... 31 

IY. Where Yellow- Wing Got His 

Liking for TnE Ground . . 47 

Y. Where Little Chief Learned To 

Make Hay .... 61 

YI. Where Glutton the Wolverine 

Got His Name ... 77 

VII. Where Old Mrs. ’Gator Made 

the First Incubator . . 91 

VIII. Where Mr. Quack Got His 

Webbed Feet . . . .107 

IX. Where Thunderfoot the Bison 

Got His Hump . . . 123 

X. Where Limberheels Got His 

Long Tail .... 139 

XI. Where Old Mr. Gobbler Got the 

Strutting Habit . . .155 


CONTENTS 


vi 


XII. Where Seek-Seek Got His 

Pretty Coat .... 169 

XIII. Where Old Mr. Osprey Learned 

To Fish 185 

XIV. Where Old Mr. Bob-Cat Left His 

Honor 199 

XV. Where Dippy the Loon Got the 

Name of Being Crazy . . 213 

XVI. Where Big-Horn Got His Curved 

Horns 229 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

“ Then there was a crash, and every- 
body ’s eyes flew open ’ ’ . Frontispiece i 


“Why, you’re all mouth!” he 

EX- 



CLAIMED ..... 

• 

8 


“ Then one day came Skimmer 

THE 



Swallow ” . 

• 

42 

V 

“ Little Chief’s father taught 

HIM 


t/ 

HOW TO MAKE HAY ” 


67 


“ * What can I do? What can I do? ’ 

Mrs ’Gator kept saying over and 
OVER ” . . . . ' 102 


Peter noticed those feet the first time 

he met Mr. and Mrs. Quack . . Ill 

This stranger didn ’t look like the same 

BIRD AT ALL ..... 160 

“ Don’t call me Striped Chipmunk, and 

don’t call me Gopher! ” said he . 172 





















* 















t 






















WHERE GRANDFATHER FROG GOT HIS 
BIG MOUTH 























































MOTHER WEST WIND 
“WHERE” STORIES 

i 

WHERE GRANDFATHER FROG GOT HIS BIG 
MOUTH 

E VERYBODY knows that Grand- 
father Frog has a big mouth. 
Of course! It wouldn’t be pos- 
sible to look him straight in the face 
and not know that he has a big mouth. 
In fact, about all you see when you 
look Grandfather Frog full in the face 
are his great big mouth and two great 
big goggly eyes. He seems then to be 
all mouth and eyes. 

Anyway, that is what Peter Rabbit 
says. Peter never will forget the first 
time he saw Grandfather Frog. Peter 


4 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


was very young then. He had run 
away from home to see the Great 
World, and in the course of his wan- 
derings he came to the Smiling Pool. 
Never before had he seen so much 
water. The most water he had ever 
seen before was a little puddle in the 
Lone Little Path. So when Peter, who 
was only half grown then, hopped out 
on the bank of the Smiling Pool and 
saw it dimpling and smiling in the 
sunshine, he thought it the most won- 
derful thing he ever had seen. The 
truth is that in those days Peter was 
in the habit of thinking everything 
he saw for the first time the most 
wonderful thing yet, and as he was 
continually seeing new things, and as 
his eyes always nearly popped out of 
his head whenever he saw something 
new, it is a wonder that he didn’t 
become pop-eyed. 


GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 5 


Peter stared and stared at the Smil- 
ing Pool, and little by little he began 
to see other things. First he noticed 
the bulrushes growing with their feet 
in the water. They looked to him 
like giant grass, and he began to be a 
little fearful lest this should prove to 
be a sort of magic place — a place of 
giants. Then he noticed the lily-pads, 
and he stared very hard at these. 
They looked like growing things, and 
yet they seemed to be floating right 
on top of the water. It wasn’t until 
a Merry Little Breeze came along and 
turned the edge of one up so that 
Peter saw the long stem running down 
in the water out of sight, that he was 
able to understand how those lily-pads 
could be growing there. He was still 
staring at those lily-pads when a great 
deep voice said: 

u Chug-a-rum! Chug-a-rum! Don’t 


6 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


you know it isn’t polity to stare at 
people? ” 

That voice was so unexpected and 
so deep that Peter was startled. He 
jumped, started to run, then stopped. 
He wanted to run, but curiosity 
wouldn’t let him. He simply couldn’t 
run away until he had found out where 
that voice came from and to whom it 
belonged. It seemed to Peter that it 
had come from right out of the Smil- 
ing Pool, but look as he would, he 
couldn’t see any one there. 

“ If you please,” said Peter timidly, 
“I’m not staring at anybody.” All 
the time he was staring down into the 
Smiling Pool with eyes fairly popping 
out of his head. 

“ Chug-a-rum! Have a care, young 
fellow! Have a care how you talk to 
your elders. Do you mean to be im- 
pudent enough to tell me to my face 


GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 7 


that I am not anybody? ” The voice 
was deeper and gruffer than ever, and 
it made Peter more uncomfortable 
than ever. 

“ Oh, no, Sir! No, indeed! ” ex- 
claimed Peter. “ I don’t mean any- 
thing of the kind. I — I — well, if 
you please, Sir, I don’t see you at all, 
so how can I be staring at you? I’m 
sure from the sound of your voice that 
you must be somebody very important. 
Please excuse me for seeming to stare. 
I was just looking for you, that is all.” 

A little movement in the water close 
to a big green lily-pad caught Peter’s 
eyes, and then out on the big green 
lily-pad climbed Grandfather Frog. If 
Peter had stared before he doubly 
stared now, eyes and mouth wide open. 
Grandfather Frog was looking his 
very best in his handsome green coat 
and white-and-yellow waistcoat. But 


8 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Peter had hardly noticed these at all. 

“ Why, you’re all mouth! ” he ex- 
claimed, and then looked very much 
ashamed of his impoliteness. 

Grandfather Frog’s great goggly 
eyes twinkled. He knew that Peter 
was very young and innocent and just 
starting out in the Great World. He 
knew that Peter didn’t intend to be 
impolite. 

“ Not quite,” said he good-naturedly. 
“ Not quite all mouth, though I must 
admit that it is of good size. The 
fact is, I wouldn’t have it a bit smaller 
if I could. If it were any smaller, I 
should miss many a good meal, and if 
I were forced to do that, I am afraid 
I should be very ill-tempered indeed. 
The truth is, I am very proud of my 
big mouth. I don’t know of any one 
w T ho has a bigger one for their size.” 

He opened his mouth wide, and it 



“Why, you're all mouth ! " he exclaimed. 

Page 8. 



































































GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 9 

seemed to Peter that Grandfather 
Frog’s whole head simply split in 
halves. He hadn’t supposed anybody 
in all the Great World possessed such 
a mouth. 

“ Where did you get it? ” gasped 
Peter, and then felt that he had asked 
a very foolish question. 

Grandfather Frog chuckled. “ I 
got it from my father, and he got his 
from his father, and so on, way back 
to the days when the world was young 
and the Frogs ruled the world,” said 
he. “ Would you like to hear about 
it?” 

“I’d love to! ” cried Peter. So he 
settled himself comfortably on the 
bank of the Smiling Pool for the first 
of many, many stories he was to hear 
from Grandfather Frog. 

“ Chug-a-rum! ” began Grandfather 
Frog. You know he always begins a 


10 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

story that way. “ Chug-a-rum! Once 
upon a time the Great World was 
mostly water, and most of the people 
lived in the water. It was in those 
days that my great-great-ever-so-great- 
grandfather lived. Those were happy 
days for the Frogs. Yes, indeed, 
those were happy days for the Frogs. 
Of course they had enemies, but those 
enemies were all in the water. They 
didn’t have to be watching out for 
danger from the air and from the land, 
as I do now. There was plenty to eat 
and little to do, and the Frog tribe in- 
creased very fast. In fact, the Frogs 
increased so fast that after a while 
there wasn’t plenty to eat. That is, 
there wasn’t plenty of the kind of food 
they had been used to, which was 
mostly water plants, and water bugs 
and such things. 

“ Of course there were many fish, 


GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 11 


and these also increased very fast, and 
the big fish ate the Frogs whenever 
they could catch them, just as they 
do to this day. The big fish also ate 
the little fish, and it wasn’t long before 
the Frogs and the little fish took to 
living where the water was not deep 
enough for the big fish to swim, and 
this made it all the harder to get 
enough to eat. The mouths of the 
Frogs in those days were not big. In 
fact, they were quite small. You see, 
living on the kind of food they did, 
they had no need of big mouths. 

“ One day as a Great-great-ever-so- 
great-grandfather Frog sat with just 
his head out of water, wondering what 
it would seem like to have his stomach 
really filled, a school of little fish came 
swimming about him, and it popped 
into his head that if little fish were 
good for big fish to eat, they might be 


12 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE) STORIES 


good for a Frog to eat. So he caught 
the first one that came within reach, 
and he found it was good to eat. He 
liked it so well that after that he 
caught fish whenever he could. Of 
course he swallowed them whole. He 
had to, because he had no chewing or 
biting teeth. 

“ Now the Frogs always have been 
famous for their appetites, and Great- 
grandfather Frog found that it took 
a great many of these teeny weeny 
fish to make a comfortable meal. He 
was thinking of this one day when a 
larger fish came within reach, and 
almost without realizing what he was 
doing Great-grandfather snapped at 
and caught him. He caught the fish by 
the tail and at once began to swallow 
it, which, of course, was no way to 
swallow a fish. But Great-grandfather 
Frog had much to learn in those days, 


GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 13 


and so he tried to swallow that fish tail 
first instead of head first. He got the 
tail down and the smallest part of the 
body, and then that fish stuck. Yes, 
Sir, that fish stuck. The fact was, 
Great-grandfather Frog’s mouth wasn’t 
wide enough. It was bad enough not 
to be able to swallow all of that fish, but 
what was worse was the discovery 
that he couldn’t get up again what 
he had swallowed. That fish was 
stuck! It would go neither down nor 
up. 

“ Poor Great-grandfather Frog was 
in a terrible fix. Big tears rolled down 
his cheeks. He choked and choked and 
choked, until it looked very much as if 
he might choke to death. Just in time, 
in the very nick of time, who should 
come along but Old Mother Nature. 
She saw right away what the trouble 
was, and she pulled out the fish. Then 


14 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


she asked how that fish had happened to 
be in such a place as Great-grandfather 
Frog’s mouth. When he could get his 
breath, he told her all about it — how 
food had been getting scarce and how 
he had discovered that fish were good 
to eat, and how he had make a mistake 
in catching a fish too big for his mouth. 
Old Mother Nature looked thoughtful. 
She saw the great numbers of young 
fish. Suddenly she reached over and 
put a finger in Great-grandfather 
Frog’s mouth and stretched it sideways. 
Then she did the same thing to the 
other corner. Great-grandfather Frog’s 
mouth was three times as big as it had 
been before. 

“ 6 Now,’ said she, 4 I don’t believe 
you’ll have any more trouble, and I’m 
going to do the same thing for all the 
other Frogs.’ 

u She did that very day, and from 


GRANDFATHER FROG’S BIG MOUTH 15 


then on the Frogs no longer had any 
trouble in getting plenty to eat. So 
that is where I got my big mouth, and 
I tell you right now I wouldn’t trade 
it for anything anybody else has got,” 
concluded Grandfather Frog, as he 
snapped up a foolish green fly who 
came too near. 

“ I think it is splendid, perfectly 
splendid,” cried Peter. “ I wish I had 
one just like it.” And then he won- 
dered why Grandfather Frog laughed 
so hard. 























































































































































m 




















































































































































































































































































































































































































WHERE MISER THE TRADE RAT FIRST 
SET UP SHOP 




























































v 




















































































n 


WHERE MISER THE TRADE RAT FIRST SET 
UP SHOP 

I T was quite by accident that Peter 
Rabbit first beard of Miser tbe 
Trade Rat. You know bow it is 
with Peter; be is forever using those 
big ears of bis to learn interesting 
things. That is what ears are for; 
but there is a right way and a wrong 
way to use them, and I am afraid that 
Peter isn’t always over-particular in 
this respect. I suspect, in fact I know, 
that Peter sometimes listens when be 
has no business to listen and knows be 
has no business to listen. Again be 
sometimes overbears things quite by 
accident when be cannot very well 


20 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


help hearing. It was in this way that 
he first heard of Miser the Trade Rat. 

Peter had crept into a hollow log in 
the Green Forest to rest and to feel 
absolutely safe while he was doing it. 
He had been there only a little while 
when he heard light footsteps outside 
and a moment later a voice which 
made him shiver a little in spite of 
himself and the knowledge that he was 
perfectly safe. The footsteps and the 
voice were Old Man Coyote’s. 

Very carefully Peter peeped out. 
Old Man Coyote had sat down close 
by the log in which Peter was 
hiding. On a dead tree close at hand 
sat 01’ Mistah Buzzard, who had come 
up from way down south for the sum- 
mer, and it was to him that Old Man 
Coyote was talking. 

“ I was over by Farmer Brown’s 
barn last night,” said Old Man Coyote, 


WHERE MISER FIRST SET UP SHOP 21 


“ and I caught a glimpse of Robber 
the Brown Rat. What a disgrace he is 
to the whole Rat tribe! For that mat- 
ter, he is a disgrace to all who live on 
the Green Meadows and in the Green 
Forest. He isn’t much like his cousin, 
Miser the Trade Rat.” 

“ Mah goodness! Do yo’ know 
Miser? ” exclaimed OF Mistah Buz- 
zard. 

“ Do I know Miser? I should say I 
do! ” replied Old Man Coyote. “ I’ve 
tried to catch him enough times to 
know him. He kept a junk shop very 
near where I used to live way out west. 
Do you know him, Mr. Buzzard? ” 

“ Ah cert’nly does,” chuckled 01’ 
Mistah Buzzard. “ Ah cert’nly does. 
Ah never did see such a busy fellow 
as he is. Ah done see his junk shop 
many times, and always it done be 
growin’ bigger. Ah wonders, Brer 


22 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Coyote, if yo’ ever heard the story of 
his Great - great - ever - so - great - gran ’ - 
daddy, the first of the family, and how 
and where he started the business 
that’s been kept in the family ever 
since.” 

“ No,” said Old Man Coyote, “ I 
never did, and I’ve wondered about it 
a great deal.” 

Peter Rabbit almost forgot that he 
was hiding. He was so eager to hear 
that story that he was right on the 
point of speaking up and begging 01’ 
Mistah Buzzard to tell it when he re- 
membered Old Man Coyote. Just in 
the nick of time he clapped a hand over 
his mouth. It seemed to Peter a long, 
long time before Old Man Coyote said: 

“I’d like to hear that story, Mr. 
Buzzard, if it isn’t too much to ask of 
you.” 

“ Not at all, Brer Coyote; not at all. 


WHERE MISER FIRST SET UP SHOP 23 


All’ll be mor’n pleased to tell it to yo\ 
Ah cert’nly will,” said 01’ Mistah Buz- 
zard, and Peter settled himself com- 
fortably to listen. 

“ Yo’ see it was this way,” began 
01’ Mistah Buzzard. “ Ah got it from 
mah gran ’daddy, and he got it from his 
gran ’daddy, and his gran ’daddy got it 
from — ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Old Man 
Coyote. “ It was handed down from 
your greatest-great-grandfather, who 
lived in the days when the world was 
young and what you are going to 
tell me about happened. Isn’t that 
it? ” 

“ Yes, Suh,” replied 01’ Mistah Buz- 
zard. “ Yes, Suh, that’s it. 01’ 
Mother Nature treat ’em all alike in 
those days. She’s a right smart busy 
person, and she ain’t got no time fo’ 
to answer foolish questions. No, Suh, 


24 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

she ain’t. So, quick as she get a new 
kind of critter made, she turn him 
loose and tell him if he want to live he 
got to be right smart and find out for 
hisself how to do it. Ah reckons yo’ 
know all about that, Brer Coyote.” 

Old Man Coyote nodded, and OP 
Mistah Buzzard scratched his bald 
head gently as if trying to stir up his 
memory. Peter Rabbit almost 
squealed aloud in his impatience while 
he waited for OP Mistah Buzzard to 
go on. 

“ When OP Mother Nature made 
Brer Trade Rat in the beginning and 
turned him loose in the Great World, 
he was just plain Mistah Rat and noth- 
ing more, same as his no ’count cousin, 
Robber the Brown Rat,” continued OP 
Mistah Buzzard. “ He had to win a 
name for hisself same as ev’ybody else. 
He had mighty sharp wits, had this 


WHERE MISER FIRST SET UP SHOP 25 

Mistah Rat, and directly he found he 
had to shift for hisself he began to 
study and study and study what he 
gwine to do to live well and be happy. 
He watched his neighbors to see what 
they did, and it didn’t take him long 
to find out that if he would be re- 
spected he must have a home. Those 
without homes were mostly no ’count 
folks, same as they are today. 

“ So Brer Rat made a nest close to 
the trunk of a tree on the edge of the 
Green Forest, a soft, warm nest, and 
in collectin’ the stuff to make it of he 
learned the joy of bein’ busy. Per- 
son ’ly, yo’ understand, Ah thinks he 
was all wrong. Ah never am so happy 
as when Ah can take a sun-bath with 
nothin’ to do. But Brer Rat was 
never so happy as when he was busy, 
and when he got that li’l nest finished 
time began to hang heavy on his hands. 


26 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Yes, Suh, it cert’nly did. Just because 
he didn’t have anything else to do he 
began to add a little more to his house. 
One day he stepped on a thorn. 
6 Ouch! ’ cried Brer Rat, and then right 
away forgot the pain in a new idea. 
He would cover his house with thorns, 
leavin’ just a little secret entrance for 
hisself ! Then he would be safe, wholly 
safe from his big neighbors, some of 
whom had begun to look at him with 
such a hungry look in their eyes that 
they made him right smart uncomfort- 
able. So he spent his time, did Brer 
Rat, in huntin’ for the longest and 
sharpest thorns and in cuttin’ the 
branches on which they grew. These 
he carried to his house and piled them 
around it and on it until it had be- 
come a great pile with sharp thorns 
stickin’ out in every direction, and 
the hungriest of the big people of the 


WHERE MISER FIRST SET UP SHOP 27 


forest passed it at a respectful dis- 
tance. 

“ When Brer Rat had all the thorns 
he needed and more, he began to col- 
lect other things and added these to 
his pile. Yo’ see, he had found that it 
was great fun to collect things; to find 
the queerest things he could and bring 
them home and look at them and won- 
der about them. So little by little his 
house became a sort of junk shop, the 
very first one in all the Great World. 
Bright stones and shells, bones, any- 
thing that caught his bright eyes and 
pleased them, he brought home. When 
he was tired of huntin’ fo’ food or 
more strange things he would sit and 
gloat over his treasures and play with 
them. And then the first thing he knew 
he had a name. Yes, Suh, he had a 
name. He was called Miser. 

“ Of course Brer Miser hadn’t lived 


28 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


ve’y long befo’ lie found out that one 
law of the Great World was that things 
belonged to whoever could get them 
and keep them. He saw that some 
thought themselves ve’y smart when 
they stole from their neighbors. Brer 
Miser didn’t like this at all. He was 
ve’y, ve’y honest, was Brer Miser. 
Perhaps he wasn’t really much 
tempted, not fo’ a long tune anyway. 

“ But at last came a time when he 
was tempted. Quite by accident he 
found one of Mr. Squirrel’s store- 
houses. In it were some nuts different 
from any he ever had seen befo’. 
‘ Brer Squirrel won’t mind if Ah taste 
just one,’ said he, and did it. It tasted 
good; it tasted ve’y good indeed. Brer 
Miser began to wish he had some nuts 
like those. When he got home he 
couldn’t think of anything but how 
good those nuts tasted. He knew that 


WHERE MISER FIRST SET UP SHOP 29 

all he had to do was to watch until 
Brer Squirrel was away and then go 
he’p hisself. He knew that was just 
what any of his neighbors would do in 
his place. But Brer Miser couldn’t 
make it seem just right any way he 
looked at it. He was too honest, was 
Brer Miser, to do anything like that. 

“ He was sitting staring at his treas- 
ures but thinking about those nuts 
when an idea popped into his head, an 
idea that made him smile until Ah 
reckons he most split his cheeks. ‘ Ah 
knows what Ah ’ll do,’ said he. ‘ Ah ’ll 
just he’p mahself to some of those nuts 
and Ah ’ll leave something of mine in 
place of them. That’s what Ah ’ll do.’ 

“ And that’s what he did do. He 
picked out a bright shell of which he 
was very fond and he left it in Brer 
Squirrel’s storehouse to pay fo’ the 
nuts that he took. After that he 


30 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

always helped himself to anything he 
wanted, but he always left something 
to pay fo’ it. It wasn’t long befo’ his 
neighbors found out what he was do- 
ing, and then they called him Miser 
the Trade Rat. Whenever anybody 
found something he didn’t want his- 
self, he took it to the little junk shop 
of Miser the Trade Rat and traded it 
fo’ something else, or left it where 
Miser would find it, knowing that 
Miser would leave something in its 
place. 

“ And it’s been just so with Miser’s 
family ever since. There is one Rat 
who is a credit to his family instead 
of a disgrace,” concluded 01’ Mistah 
Buzzard. 


Ill 

WHERE YAP-YAP THE PRAIRIE DOG 
USED HIS WITS 





m 

WHERE YAP-YAP THE PRAIRIE DOG USED 
HIS WITS 

P ETER RABBIT had just had a 
great fright. He is used to 
having great frights, but this 
time it was a different kind of a fright. 
It was not for himself that he had 
been afraid but for one of his old 
friends and neighbors. Now that it 
was over, Peter drew a little breath of 
sheer relief. 

You see it was this way: Peter had 
started over for a call on Johnny 
Chuck. When he reached Johnny 
Chuck’s house he found no one at 


34 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


home. At first he thought he would 
go look for Johnny, for he knew that 
Johnny must be somewhere near, as he 
never goes far from his own doorstep. 
Then he changed his mind and decided 
to wait for Johnny to return. So he 
stretched himself out in some tall grass 
beside Johnny Chuck’s house, intend- 
ing to jump out and give Johnny a 
scare when he came home. Hardly 
had he settled himself when he heard 
Johnny coming, and he knew by the 
sounds that Johnny was running from 
some danger. 

Very, very carefully Peter raised his 
head to see. Then he ducked it again 
and held his breath. Johnny Chuck 
was running as Peter never had seen 
him rim before and with very good 
reason. Just a few jumps behind 
Johnny’s twinkling little black heels 
was Old Man Coyote. It looked to 


WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 35 

Peter as if Old Man Coyote certainly 
would catch Johnny Chuck this time. 
He was so frightened for Johnny that 
he quite forgot that he himself might 
be in danger. Head first through his 
doorway plunged Johnny, and Old 
Man Coyote’s teeth snapped together 
on nothing. 

Old Man Coyote backed away a few 
steps and sat down with his head on 
one side as he studied Johnny Chuck’s 
house in the ground. It was plain to 
be seen that he was trying to make up 
his mind whether it would be worth 
while to try to dig Johnny out. Pres- 
ently Johnny came half-way up his 
long hall where he could look out. 
Then he began to scold Old Man Co- 
yote. Old Man Coyote grinned. 

“ I give up, Johnny Chuck,” said 
he. “ You did well when you made 
your home between the roots of this 


36 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


old tree. If it wasn’t for those roots, 
I certainly would dig you out. As it 
is you are safe. You remind me very 
much of your cousin, Yap-Yap the 
Prairie Dog, who lives out where I 
came from. There’s a fellow who cer- 
tainly knows how to make a house in 
the ground. He doesn’t have to de- 
pend on the roots of trees to keep from 
being dug out. Well, I guess it is a 
waste of time to hang around here. 
You’ll make just as good a dinner some 
other time as you would now, so I’ll 
wait until then.” Old Man Coyote 
grinned wickedly and trotted off. 

Now at the mention of Yap- Yap the 
Prairie Dog, the long ears of Peter 
Rabbit had pricked up at once. It 
was the first time he had heard of 
Yap-Yap, and when at last Johnny 
Chuck ventured out Peter was as full 
of questions as a pea-pod is of peas. 


WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 37 


But Johnny Chuck knew nothing about 
his cousin, Yap-Yap, and wasn’t even 
interested in him. So finally Peter 
left him and went back home to the 
dear Old Briar-patch. But he couldn’t 
get Yap- Yap out of his mind, and he 
resolved that the first chance he got 
he would ask Old Man Coyote about 
him. The chance came that very 
night. Old Man Coyote came along by 
the dear Old Briar-patch and stopped 
to peer in and grin at Peter. Peter 
grinned back, for he knew that under 
those friendly brambles he was quite 
safe. 

“ I heard what you said to Johnny 
Chuck about his cousin, Yap-Yap,” 
said Peter. 

Old Man Coyote looked as surprised 
as he felt. “ Where were you? ” he 
demanded gruffly. 

“ Lying flat in the grass close by 


38 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Johnny Chuck’s house,” replied Peter, 
and grinned more broadly than ever. 

“ And to think I didn’t know it! ” 
sighed Old Man Coyote. “ When I 
failed to' catch Johnny Chuck, I 
thought I had missed only one dinner, 
but it seems I missed two. Next time 
I shall look around a little more 
sharply. Do you know, the sight of 
Johnny Chuck always makes me home- 
sick, he reminds me so much of his 
cousin, Yap- Yap, and the days when I 
was young.” 

“ I didn’t know that Johnny Chuck 
had a cousin until you mentioned it,” 
said Peter. “ Does he look like 
Johnny? Won’t you tell me about 
him, Mr. Coyote? ” 

“ Seeing that I haven’t anything in 
particular to do, I don’t know but I 
will,” replied Old Man Coyote, who 
happened to be feeling very good- 


WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 39 


natured. “ Many and many a time I 
have chased Yap-Yap into his house. 
Seems as if I can hear the rascal scold- 
ing me and calling me names right 
this minute. He used to get me so 
provoked that it was all I could do to 
keep from trying to dig him out.” 

“ Why didn’t you? ” asked Peter. 

“ Because it would have meant a 
waste of time, sore feet, and nothing 
to show for my trouble,” retorted Old 
Man Coyote. “ Yap-Yap never has 
forgotten what his great-great-ever-so- 
great- grandfather learned when he 
first took to living on the open 
prairie.” 

“ What did he learn? Tell me 
about it, Mr. Coyote,” begged Peter. 

“ He learned to use his wits,” re- 
plied Old Man Coyote, with a provok- 
ing grin. “ He learned to use his wits, 
that’s all.” 


40 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

“ Please tell me about it, Mr. Co- 
yote. Please,” begged Peter. 

“ Once upon a time,” began Old 
Man Coyote, “ so my grandfather told 
me, and he got it from his grand- 
father, who got it from his grandfather, 
who — ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Peter. “ It 
happened in the days when the world 
was young.” 

Old Man Coyote looked at Peter very 
hard as if he had half a mind not to 
tell the story, but Peter looked so in- 
nocent and so eager that he began 
again. “ Once upon a time lived the 
great - great - ever - so - great - grand - 
father of Yap-Yap, the very first of all 
the Prairie Dogs, and his name was 
Yap-Yap too. He was own cousin to 
old Mr. Woodchuck, who of course 
wasn’t old then, and the two cousins 
looked much alike, save that Yap-Yap 


WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 41 

was a little smaller than Mr. Wood- 
chuck and perhaps a little smarter 
looking. 

“ From the very beginning Yap-Yap 
was a keen lover of the great open 
spaces. Trees were all very well for 
those who liked them, but he preferred 
to have nothing above him but the 
blue, blue sky. It seemed to him that 
he never could find a big enough open 
space, so he never stayed very long in 
any one place, but kept pushing on and 
on, looking for a spot in the Great 
World that would just suit him. At 
last he came to the edge of the Green 
Forest, and before him, as far as he 
could see, stretched the Green Mead- 
ows. At least it was like the Green 
Meadows, only a million thousand times 
as big as the Green Meadows we are on 
now, Peter, and was really the Great 
Prairie. 


42 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

“ Yap-Yap looked and looked, then 
he drew a long breath of pure joy and 
started out across the green grass. 
On and on he went, until when he sat 
up and looked this way or that way or 
the other way he could see nothing but 
grass and flowers, and over him was 
naught but the blue, blue sky. He had 
found the great open space of which 
he had dreamed, and he was happy. 
So he ate and slept and played with 
the Merry Little Breezes and grew fat. 

“ Then one day came Skimmer the 
Swallow and brought him news of the 
hard times which had come to the rest 
of the Great World and how as a result 
the big and the strong were hunting 
the small and the weak in order that 
they themselves might live. When 
Skimmer had gone, Yap-Yap grew un- 
easy. What if some of the big and 
strong people he had known should 



7 7 


‘ 1 Then one day came Skimmer the Swallow 

Page Jfi. 




WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 43 

come out there in quest of food and 
should find him? There was no place 
in which to hide. There was no cave 
or hollow log. 

“ Yap-Yap looked at the strong 
claws Old Mother Nature had given 
him and an idea came to him. He 
would dig a hole in the ground. So 
he dug a hole on a long slant very 
much like the hole of Johnny Chuck; 
but when it was finished a little doubt 
crept into his head and grew and grew. 
What was to prevent some one who 
was very hungry from digging him 
out? So he moved on a little way and 
started another hole, and this time he 
made it almost straight down. Every 
day he made that hole deeper until it 
was many feet deep. Then he made a 
turn in it and dug a long tunnel, at 
the end of which he hollowed out a 
comfortable bedroom and lined it with 


44 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

grass. When it was finished he was 
quite satisfied. 

“ £ I don’t believe,’ said he, ‘ that 
any one will have the patience to dig 
to the bottom of this.’ 

66 So at night he slept in his bed at 
the end of his long hall far below the 
surface, but all day he spent above 
ground, for he dearly loved the sun- 
shine. All went well until there came 
a time of heavy rains. Then Yap- Yap 
discovered that the water ran down 
his hole, and if he didn’t do something, 
he was likely to be drowned out. 
Right away he set his sharp wits to 
work. He noticed that when the water 
on the surface reached the little piles 
of sand he had made, it ran around 
them. So he made a great mound of 
sand around his hole with the entrance 
in the middle and pressed it firm on 
the inside so that the rain would not 


WHERE YAP-YAP USED HIS WITS 45 

wash it down in. Then, although the 
water stood all around, it no longer 
ran down in his house. In fair weather 
that mound was a splendid place on 
which to sit and watch for danger. So 
once more Yap- Yap was happy and 
care-free, all because he had used his 
wits. 

“ And from that day to this the 
Prairie Dogs have made their houses 
in just that way, and no one that I 
know cares to try to dig one out,” 
concluded Old Man Coyote. 








IV 

WHERE YELLOW-WING GOT HIS LIKING 
FOR THE GROUND 



I 


IV 


WHERE YELLOW-WING GOT HIS LIKING FOR 
THE GROUND 

P ETER RABBIT was hopping 
along on the edge of the Green 
Meadows, looking for a new 
patch of sweet clover. It was very 
beautiful that morning, and Peter was 
in the best of spirits. It was good just 
to be alive. Every once in a while 
Peter would jump up and kick his long 
heels together just from pure happi- 
ness. He was so happy that he didn’t 
pay particular attention to where he 
was going or what was about him. 
The result was that Peter got a fright. 
Right from under his very nose some- 
thing sprang out of the grass so sud- 


50 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


denly and so wholly unexpectedly that 
Peter very nearly tumbled over back- 
ward. He made two long jumps off to 
one side and then turned to see what 
had startled him so. But all he saw 
was an old feathered acquaintance 
headed towards the Old Orchard. He 
seemed to bound along through the air 
much as Peter bounds along over the 
ground when he is in a hurry. It was 
Yellow-Wing the Flicker. 

Peter grinned and looked a little 
foolish. He felt a little foolish. You 
know it always makes you feel foolish 
to be frightened when there is nothing 
to be afraid of. Peter watched Yellow- 
Wing until he disappeared among the 
trees of the Old Orchard, from which 
presently his voice sounded clear and 
loud, and in it there was a mocking 
note as if Yellow-Wing were laughing 
at him. Peter suspected that he was. 


YELLOW -WING’S LIKING FOR GROUND 51 


But Peter was feeling too happy to 
mind being laughed at. In fact, he 
chuckled himself. It was something of 
a joke to be frightened by one who was 
so wholly harmless. Peter recalled 
how many times he had frightened 
other people and thought it the best 
of jokes. 

Peter went on until he found a new 
patch of sweet clover. Then he forgot 
all about Yellow-Wing. He was too 
busy filling that big stomach of his to 
think of anything else. When he 
couldn’t find room for another leaf of 
clover he went home to the dear Old 
Briar-patch, and there in his favorite 
spot he settled himself to rest and 
think or dream as the case might be. 
Presently his thoughts returned to 
Yellow-Wing, and he chuckled again at 
the memory of his fright that morning. 
And then for the first time it struck 


52 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Peter as queer that Yellow- Wing 
should have been out there on the 
Green Meadows on the ground. He 
often had seen Yellow-Wing on the 
ground, but until that moment there 
never had seemed anything queer 
about that. Now, however, it sud- 
denly came to Peter that Yellow- Wing 
belonged in trees, not on the ground. 

Peter scratched his long left ear with 
his long left hind foot, which was a sign 
that he was thinking of something that 
puzzled him. “ He belongs to the 
Woodpecker family,’ ’ thought Peter, 
“ and never have I seen any of his 
relatives on the ground. They get all 
their food in the trees. Now why is 
Yellow-Wing so different from his 
relatives? ” 

The more Peter thought about it, the 
queerer it seemed that a Woodpecker 
should spend so much time on the 


YELLOW-WING’S LIKING FOR GROUND 53 

ground, or visit the ground at all, for 
that matter. But just wondering about 
it didn’t get him anywhere, and at last 
Peter decided that the only way to find 
out would be to ask questions. So 
Peter made up his mind to watch for 
Yellow-Wing and ask him all about it 
the first chance he got. 

The chance came the very next day 
in the very same place where Peter 
had been so startled. This time he was 
on the watch and saw Yellow- Wing 
very busy about something. Peter 
stole up within speaking distance. 

“ Good morning, Yellow- Wing,” said 
he. “ I wonder if you will tell me 
something.” 

It was Yellow-Wing’s turn to be 
startled, for he had not seen Peter ap- 
proaching. He half lifted his wings to 
fly, but when he saw who it was, he 
changed his mind. 


54 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

“ It all depends on what it is you 
want me to tell you,” he replied rather 
shortly. 

“It is just this,” replied Peter. 
“ Why do you spend so much time on 
the ground? ” 

“ That’s easily answered,” laughed 
Yellow-Wing. “ I do it because it is 
the easiest way to get enough to eat.” 

Peter looked as surprised as he felt. 
“ I thought that all your family got 
their living in the trees! ” he ex- 
claimed. 

“ All do hut me,” replied Yellow- 
Wing a wee bit testily. “ But I don’t 
have to do what they do just because 
they do it. No, Siree, I’m independ- 
ent! Do you like ants, Peter? ” 

“ What? ” exclaimed Peter. 

“ I asked if you like ants,” repeated 
Yellow-Wing. 

“I’ve never tried them,” Peter re- 


YELLOW-WING’S LIKING FOR GROUND 55 

plied, “ but I’ve heard Old Mr. Toad 
say they are very nice.” 

“ They are,” said Yellow- Wing. 
“ They are more than nice — they are 
de-li-cious. It is because of them that 
I spend so much time on the ground. 
Ants changed the habits of the Flicker 
branch of the Woodpecker family. I 
wouldn’t be surprised if we became 
regular ground birds one of these 
days.” 

Peter looked puzzled. He kept turn- 
ing it over in his mind as he watched 
Yellow-Wing plunge his long stout bill 
into an ant hill and then gobble up the 
ants as they came rushing out to see 
what the trouble was. 

“ I don’t see how ants could change 
the habits of anybody,” he ventured 
after a while. 

Yellow- Wing’s eyes twinkled. 
Al Why don’t you learn to eat them? ” 


56 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


he demanded. “ If you would, they 
might change your habits. The begin- 
ning of the change in the habits of my 
folks began a long time ago.” 

“ Way back in the beginning of 
things, when the world was young? ” 
asked Peter. 

“ No, not quite so far back as that,” 
replied Yellow-Wing. “ Great-great- 
ever-so-great-grandfather, who was the 
first Flicker, was, of course, a member 
of the Woodpecker family, and he got 
his living in regular Woodpecker 
fashion. It never entered his head to 
look for food anywhere but in the 
trees, and I don’t suppose that it ever 
entered his head to set foot on the 
ground. It was the same with his chil- 
dren and his children’s children for a 
long time. 

“ But though they lived as true 
Woodpeckers should, the Flickers 


YELLOW-WING’S LIKING FOR GROUND 57 

always were a bit sharper-witted and 
more independent than most of their 
relatives. For one thing they had dis- 
covered that ants were fine eating and 
that great numbers of them were to be 
found running up and down the trunks 
of certain trees. So the Flickers used 
to look for these trees and feast on the 
ants. It saved a lot of labor. A 
stomachful of ants could be picked 
from the trunk of a tree in the time it 
would take to dig out one worm in the 
wood, to say nothing of the saving of 
hard work. 

“ One day a few years ago my great- 
great-great-grandfather, so the story 
goes, had stuffed himself with ants 
from the trunk of a tree and had 
settled himself for a rest. From where 
he sat he could see a procession of ants 
going up and down the tree, and he 
got to wondering where they all came 


58 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

from and where they all went to. So 
he watched and presently discovered 
that that double line of ants led out 
along the ground from the foot of the 
tree. This made him still more curious 
and he followed it, flying along just 
over it. He had gone but a short dis- 
tance when he came to a little mound 
of sand, and there the line of ants 
ended. Grandfather Flicker flew up in 
a tree from which he could look right 
down on that mound, and it didn’t take 
him long to discover that those ants 
were going in and out of little holes in 
that mound. 

“ 1 As I live, that must be their 
home! ’ exclaimed he. 4 That place is 
alive with them. What a place to fill 
one’s stomach! I never was on the 
ground in my life, but the next 
time I’m hungry, I’m going to see 
what the ground is like. I won’t have 


YELLOW-WING’S LIKING FOR GROUND 59 

to stay on it long to get my dinner 
here . 9 

“ Grandfather Flicker was as good 
as his word. When he was ready for 
another meal, he flew down to that ant 
hill. He found that when he plunged 
his bill into it, the ants fairly poured 
out to see what was happening, and all 
he had to do was to thrust out his long 
sticky tongue and lick them up. Never 
in all his life before had he filled his 
stomach so easily. After that, instead 
of wasting time hunting for worms and 
insects in the trees where he could find 
only one at a time, Grandfather 
Flicker kept his eyes open for ant 
hills on the ground. He taught his 
children to do the same thing. That 
was the beginning of the change of 
habits with the Flickers. Ever since 
we have spent more and more time on 
the ground, so that now we feel quite 


60 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

at home there. We still get some of 
our food in the trees by way of variety, 
and we make our homes there, but a 
good big part of our food we get just 
as I am doing now.” 

With this Yellow-Wing once more 
plunged his bill into the ant hill and 
licked up a dozen ants who had come 
rushing out to see what was going on. 
And so once more the curiosity of 
Peter Rabbit was satisfied, and he had 
learned something. 


WHERE LITTLE CHIEF LEARNED TO 
MAKE HAY 









V 


WHERE LITTLE CHIEF LEARNED TO MAKE 
HAY 

N O one in all the Great World 
thinks more of the present 
and less of the future than 
does careless, happy-go-lucky Peter 
Rabbit. Everybody who knows Peter 
at all knows that Peter doesn’t waste 
any time worrying over what may hap- 
pen in a day that may never be. So 
Peter isn’t thrifty as are Happy Jack 
Squirrel and Chatterer the Red Squir- 
rel and Whitefoot the Wood Mouse 
and Paddy the Beaver and Striped 
Chipmunk. 

“ I’ve got enough to eat today, and 
enough is enough, so what is the use 


64 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

of working when I don’t have to? ” 
says Peter. “ I don’t believe in work- 
ing today so that I won’t have to work 
tomorrow, because when tomorrow 
comes there may be no need of work- 
ing, and then I would feel that I had 
wasted all this good time today.” No, 
Peter isn’t the least bit thrifty. 

It is the same way with Peter’s big 
cousin, Jumper the Hare. The truth 
is the whole family is happy-go-lucky. 
Happy Jack Squirrel says that every 
blessed one of them is shiftless. It 
does look that way. It is a pity that 
Peter and Jumper never have learned 
a lesson from Little Chief Hare, who 
is commonly supposed to be a relative 
of theirs, although, as a matter of fact, 
he is neither a Hare nor a Rabbit, but 
is a Pika, which is another family 
altogether. He is also called a Coney 
and sometimes the Calling Hare. But 


LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 65 

if you want sure-enough proof that he 
is neither a Rabbit nor a Hare, just 
watch him, if you are lucky enough to 
have a chance, cut and dry and store 
away a great pile of hay for winter use. 
No true member of Peter’s family ever 
would think of doing such a thing as 
that, more is the pity. 

Peter never has seen Little Chief, 
because Little Chief lives high up on a 
mountain of the Par West among the 
rocks where Peter would never go, 
even if he could, but he has heard all 
about him. Old Man Coyote told him 
all about him, and he got the story 
from his grandfather, who got it from 
his grandfather, who had one time 
visited the great mountain where Little 
Chief’s ever-so-great-grandfather lived 
in the very place where Little Chief 
lives now. Old Man Coyote had chased 
Peter into the dear Old Briar-patch 


66 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


one cold winter day, and as lie peered 
through the brambles at Peter he 
noticed that Peter was very thin, very 
thin indeed. Old Man Coyote grinned. 

“ I’m just as well pleased not to 
have caught you this time, Peter,” 
said he. “ You wouldn’t make much 
of a dinner just now. When I dine I 
want something more than skin and 
bones. It must be that you are having 
as hard work as I am to get a living 
these days.” 

“ I am,” replied Peter. “ With all 
this snow and ice on the ground, there 
is nothing to eat but bark and such 
tender twigs as I can reach, and they 
are not very filling. But they’ll keep 
me alive until better times come, and 
then perhaps I’ll get fat enough to 
suit you.” It was Peter’s turn to grin. 

Old Man Coyote grinned back good- 
naturedly. “ I should think, Peter,” 


LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 67 


said he, “ that when there is so much 
sweet grass and clover in the summer, 
you would make some of it into hay 
and store it away for winter, as Little 
Chief Hare does. There ’s the thrifty 
little hay-maker for you! ” 

“ Who is Little Chief, and where did 
he learn to make hay? ” demanded 
Peter, his ears standing straight up 
with curiosity. 

Old Man Coyote likes to tell a story 
once in a while, and having nothing 
else to do just then, he sat down just 
outside the dear Old Briar-patch and 
told Peter all about Little Chief and 
his hay-making. 

“ Of course,” said he, “ Little 
Chief’s father taught him how to make 
hay, and his father’s father taught him, 
and so on way back to the days when 
the world was young and Old Mother 
Nature made the first Pika or Coney, 


68 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

whichever you please to call him, and 
set him free on a great mountain to 
prove whether he was worthy to live 
or was so helpless that there was no 
place for him in the Great World. 
Now Mr. Pika, who was promptly 
called Little Chief, no one remembers 
now just why, was exactly like Little 
Chief of today. He was just about a 
fourth as big as you, Peter. In fact, 
he looked a lot like one of your babies, 
excepting his legs and his ears. His 
legs were short and rather weak, and 
his ears were short and rounded. He 
was very gentle and timid. He had 
neither the kind of teeth and claws for 
fighting nor long legs for running 
away, and it did seem as if Little 
Chief’s chances of a long life and a 
happy one were very slim indeed, espe- 
cially as it happened that he was set 
free to shift for himself just at the 



‘ ‘ Little Chief ’s father taught him how to 

make hay. ” 


Page 67 



. 

. 



































































LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 69 

beginning of the hard times, when the 
big and strong had begun to hunt the 
small and weak. 

“ For a while Little Chief had a hard 
time of it and so many narrow escapes 
that his heart was in his mouth most 
of the time. In trying to keep out of 
the way of his enemies he kept climb- 
ing higher and higher up the moun- 
tain, for the higher he got the fewer 
enemies he found. At last he came to 
a big rock-slide above where the trees 
grew, and where there was nothing but 
broken stone and big rocks. The sun 
lay there very warm, and Little Chief 
crept out among the stones to take a 
sun-bath; as he squatted there it would 
have taken keen eyes indeed to tell 
him from a stone himself, though he 
didn’t know this. 

“ After he had had a good rest, and 
jolly Mr. Sun had moved so that Little 


70 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

Chief was no longer in the warm rays, 
Little Chief decided to look about a 
little. It didn’t take him long to dis- 
cover that there were wonderful little 
winding galleries and hiding-places 
down among the stones. These led to 
little cracks and caves deep down in 
the mountain side. Little Chief was 
tickled almost to death. 

“ 4 This is the place for me! ’ he 
cried. ‘ No one ever will think to look 
for me up here, and if they should 
they couldn’t find me, for no one, not 
even King Bear, could pull away these 
stones fast enough to catch me. All 
day long I can enjoy the sun, and at 
night I can sleep in perfect safety in 
one of these little caves.’ 

“ So Little Chief made his home in 
the rock-slide high up on the moun- 
tain and was happy, for it was just 
as he thought it would be — no one 


LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 71 

thought of looking in that bare place 
for him. For food he ate the pea vines 
and grasses and other green things that 
grew just at the edge of the rock-slide 
and was perfectly happy. One day he 
decided he would take some of his din- 
ner into his little cave and eat it 
there. So he cut a little bundle of pea 
vine and other green things. He left 
his little bundle on a flat rock in the 
sun while he went to look for some- 
thing else and then forgot all about it. 
It didn’t enter his head again until a 
few days later he happened along by 
that flat rock and discovered that little 
bundle. The pea vines and grasses 
were quite dry, just like the hay 
Farmer Brown’s boy helps his father 
store away in the barn every summer. 

“ * I guess I don’t want to eat that,’ 
said Little Chief, ‘ but it will make me 
a very nice bed. ’ So he carried it home 


72 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

and made a bed of it. There wasn’t 
quite enough, so the next day he cut 
some more and carried it home at once. 
But this, being green, soon soured and 
smelled so badly that he was forced to 
take it out and throw it away. That 
set him to thinking. Why was the first 
he had brought in so dry and sweet 
and pleasant? Why didn’t it spoil as 
the other had done? He cut some 
more and spread it out on the big fiat 
rock and once again he forgot. When 
he remembered and went to look at it 
two or three days later, he found it 
just like the first, dry and sweet and 
very pleasant to smell. This he took 
home to add to his bed. Then he took 
home some more that was green, and 
this spoiled just as the other had done. 

u Little Chief was puzzling over this 
as he squatted on a rock taking a sun- 
bath. The sun was very warm and 


LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 73 

comforting. After a while the rock on 
which he sat grew almost hot. Little 
Chief had brought along a couple of 
pieces of pea vine on which to lunch, 
but not being hungry he left them be- 
side him on the rock. By and by he 
happened to glance at them. They had 
wilted and already they were begin- 
ning to dry. An idea popped into his 
funny little head. 

“ * It’s the sun that does it!’ he 
cried. 

“ Up he jumped and scampered 
away to cut some more and spread it 
out on the rocks. Then he discovered 
that the pea vine which he spread in 
the sun dried as he wanted it to, while 
any that happened to be left in the 
shadow of a rock didn’t dry so well. 
He had learned how to make hay. He 
was the first hay-maker in the Great 
World. He soon had more than 


74 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

enough for a bed, but he kept on mak- 
ing hay and storing it away just for 
fun. Then came cold weather and all 
the green things died. There was no 
food for Little Chief. He hunted and 
hunted, but there was nothing. Then 
because he was so hungry he began to 
nibble at his hay. It tasted good, very 
good indeed. It tasted almost as good 
as the fresh green things. Little 
Chief’s heart gave a great leap. He 
had food in plenty! He had nothing to 
worry about, for his hay would last 
him until the green things came again, 
as come they would, he felt sure. 

“ And so it proved. And that is 
how Little Chief the Pika learned to 
make hay while the sun shone in the 
days of plenty. He taught his children 
and they taught their children, and 
Little Chief of today does it just as 
his great - great - ever - so - great - grand- 


LITTLE CHIEF LEARNS TO MAKE HAY 75 


daddy did. I don’t see why you don’t 
do the same thing, Peter. You would 
make me a great deal finer dinner if 
you did.” 

“ Perhaps that is the reason I 
don’t,” replied Peter with a grin. 



VI 

WHERE GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE GOT 
HIS NAME 



VI 

WHERE GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE GOT HIS 
NAME 

G lutton the wolverine 

is a dweller in the depths of 
the Great Forests of the Far 
North, and it is doubtful if Peter Rab- 
bit would ever have known that there 
is such a person but for his acquaint- 
ance with Honker the Goose, who 
spends his summers in the Far North, 
but each spring and fall stops over for 
a day or two in a little pond in the 
Green Forest, a pond Peter often 
visits. This acquaintance with Honker 
and Peter’s everlasting curiosity have 
resulted in many strange stories. At 


80 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

least they have seemed strange to 
Peter because they have been about 
furred and feathered people whom 
Peter has never seen. And one of the 
strangest of these is the story of how 
Glutton the Wolverine got his name. 

Of course you know what a glutton 
is. It is one who is very, very, very 
greedy and eats and eats as if eating 
were the only thing in life worth while. 
It is one who is all the time thinking 
of his stomach. No one likes to be 
called a glutton. So when Honker the 
Goose happened to mention Glutton, it 
caused Peter to prick up his ears at 
once. 

“ Who’s a glutton? ” he demanded. 

“ I didn’t say any one was a glut- 
ton,” replied Honker. “ I was speak- 
ing of Glutton the Wolverine who lives 
in the Great Forests of the Far North, 
and whom everybody hates.” 


GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE’S NAME 81 


“ Is Glutton his name? ” asked Peter, 
wrinkling his brows in perplexity, for 
it seemed a very queer name for any 
one. 

66 Certainly, ” replied Honker. 
“ Certainly that is his name, and a 
very good name for him it is. But 
then of course it is because he is a glut- 
ton that he is named Glutton. Bather 
I should say that is the reason the first 
Wolverine was named Glutton. The 
name has been handed down ever since, 
and it fits Mr. Wolverine of today 
quite as well as ever it did his great- 
great-ever-so-great-grandf ather. ’ ’ 

“ Tell me about it,” Peter begged. 
“ Please tell me about it.” 

“ Tell you about what? ” asked 
Honker, pretending not to understand. 

4 4 About how the first Wolverine 
got the name of Glutton,” replied 
Peter promptly. “ There must have 


82 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

been a very good reason, and if there 
was a very good reason, there must be 
a story. Please, Honker, tell me all 
about it.” 

Honker swam a little way out from 
shore, and with head held high and 
very still, he looked and listened and 
listened and looked until he was quite 
certain that no danger lurked near. 
Then he swam back to where Peter 
was sitting on the bank. 

“ Peter,” said he, “I never in all 
my born days have seen such a fellow 
for questions as you are. If I lived 
about here, I think I should swim away 
every time I saw you coming. But as 
I only stop here for a day or two twice 
a year, I guess I can stand it. Besides, 
you really ought to know something 
about some of the people who live in 
the Great Forest. It is shameful, 
Peter, that you should be so ignorant. 


GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE’S NAME 83 


And so if you will promise not to ask 
for another story while I am here, I 
will tell you about Glutton the Wolver- 
ine.” 

Of course Peter promised. He 
wanted that story so much that he 
would have promised anything. So 
Honker told the story, and here it is 
just as Peter heard it. 

“ Once upon a time long, long, long 
ago, the first Wolverine was sent out 
to find a place for himself in the Great 
World just as every one else had been 
sent out. Old Mother Nature had told 
him that he was related to Mr. Weasel 
and Mr. Mink and Mr. Fisher and Mr. 
Skunk, but no one would have guessed 
it just to look at him. In fact, some 
of his new neighbors were inclined to 
think that he was related to Old King 
Bear. Certainly he looked more like 
King Bear than he did like little Mr. 


84 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Weasel. But for Ms bushy tail he 
would have looked still more like a 
member of the Bear family. He was 
clumsy-looking. He was rather slow 
moving, but he was strong, very strong 
for his size. And he had a mean dis- 
position. Yes, Sir, Mr. Wolverine had 
a mean disposition. He had such a 
mean disposition that he would snarl 
at his own reflection in a pool of water. 

“ Now you know as well as I do 
that no one with a mean disposition 
has any friends. It was so with Mr. 
Wolverine. When his neighbors found 
out what a mean disposition he had, 
they let him severely alone. They 
would go out of their way to avoid 
meeting him. This made Ms disposi- 
tion all the meaner. He didn’t really 
care because his neighbors would have 
nothing to do with him. No, he didn’t 
really care, for the simple reason that 


GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE'S NAME 85 

he didn’t want anything to do with 
them. But just the same it made him 
angry to have them show that they 
didn’t want to have anything to do 
with him. Every time he would see 
one of them turn aside to avoid meet- 
ing him, he would snarl under his 
breath, and his eyes would glow with 
anger; he would resolve to get even. 

“ Being slow in his movements be- 
cause of his stout build, he early real- 
ized that he must make nimble wits 
make up for the lack of nimble legs. 
He also learned very early in life that 
patience is a virtue few possess, and 
that patience and nimble wits will ac- 
complish almost anything. So, living 
alone in the Great Forest, he practised 
patience until no one in all the Great 
EWorld could be more patient than he. 
No one knew this because, you see, 
everybody kept away from him. And 


86 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

all the time he was practising patience, 
he was studying and studying the other 
people of the Great Forest, both large 
and small, learning all their habits, 
how they lived, where they lived, what 
they ate, and all about them. 

“ 4 One never knows when such 
knowledge may be useful/ he would 
say to himself. ‘ The more I know 
about other people and the less they 
know about me the better.’ 

“ So Mr. Wolverine kept out of 
sight as much as possible, and none 
knew how he lived or where he lived 
or anything about him save that he 
had a mean disposition. Patiently he 
watched the other people, especially 
those of nimble wits who lived largely 
by their cunhing and cleverness — Mr. 
Fox, Mr. Coyote, Mr. Lynx and his 
own cousins, Mr. Mink and Mr. Weasel. 
From each one he learned something, 


GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE’S NAME 87 


and at last he was more cunning and 
more clever than any of them or even 
than all of them, for that matter. 

“ Living alone as he did, and having 
a mean disposition, he grew more and 
more sullen and savage until those who 
at first had avoided him simply be- 
cause of his mean disposition now kept 
out of his way through fear, for his 
claws were long and his strength was 
great and his teeth were sharp. It 
didn’t take him long to discover that 
there were few who did not fear him, 
and he cunningly contrived to increase 
this fear, for he had a feeling that the 
time might come when it would be of 
use to him. 

“ The time did come. As you know, 
there came a time when food was 
scarce, and everybody, or almost every- 
body, had hard work to get enough to 
keep alive. Mr. Wolverine didn’t. 


88 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


The fact is, Mr. Wolverine lived very 
well indeed. He simply reaped the re- 
ward of his patience in learning all 
about the ways of his neighbors, of his 
nimble wits and of the fear which he 
inspired. Instead of hunting for food 
himself, he depended on his neighbors 
to hunt for him. They didn’t know 
they were hunting for him, but some- 
how whenever one of them had secured 
a good meal, Mr. Wolverine was almost 
sure to happen along. A growl from 
him was enough, and that meal was 
left in his possession. 

“ Knowing how scarce food was and 
the uncertainty of when he would get 
the next meal, Mr. Wolverine always 
made it a point on these occasions to 
stuff himself until it was a wonder his 
skin didn’t burst. If there was more 
than he could eat, he would take a nap 
right there, and because of fear of 


GLUTTON THE WOLVERINE’S NAME 89 


him the rightful owner of the food 
would not dare take what was left. 
When he awoke Mr. Wolverine would 
finish what remained. 

“ Those who secured more food than 
they could eat and tried to store away 
the rest found that no matter how cun- 
ningly they chose a hiding-place for it 
and covered their tracks, Mr. Wolver- 
ine was sure to find it. In fact, he 
made a business of robbing store- 
houses, and the habit of greediness be- 
came so strong that he would stuff 
himself at one storehouse and immedi- 
ately start for another. When it did 
happen that he couldn’t eat all he 
found and yet didn’t want to stay until 
he could finish it, he would tear to 
bits all that remained and scatter it 
all about. You know I told you he had 
a mean disposition. 

“ Even when good times returned 


90 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


and there was no possible excuse for 
such greed, Mr. Wolverine continued 
to stuff himself until it seemed that 
instead of eating in order to live, as 
the rest of us do, he lived in order to 
eat. Of course it wasn’t long before 
some one called him a glutton, and pres- 
ently he was named Glutton, and no 
one called him anything else. Glutton 
by name and a glutton in habit he re- 
mained as long as he lived. Both name 
and habits he handed down to his chil- 
dren and they to their children. So it 
is that today there is no more cunning 
thief, no greedier rascal, and no one 
with a meaner disposition in all the 
Great Woods of the Far North than 
Glutton the Wolverine.” 

“ Queer how a habit will stick, isn’t 
it? ” said Peter thoughtfully. 

“ Particularly a bad habit,” added 
Honker. 


VII 

WHERE OLD MRS. 'GATOR MADE THE 
FIRST INCUBATOR 



vn 


WHERE OLD MRS. ’GATOR MADE THE FIRST 
INCUBATOR 

P ETER RABBIT and Mrs. Quack 
the Mallard Duck are great 
friends. They have been great 
friends ever since Peter tried to help 
Mrs. Quack when she and Mr. Quack 
had spent a whole summer on a little 
pond hidden deep in the Green Forest 
because Mr. Quack had a broken wing 
and so he and Mrs. Quack simply 
couldn’t keep on to their home in the 
Far North for which they had started. 
During that long summer Peter had 
become very well acquainted with 
them. In fact he visited them very 
often, for as you know, Peter is simply 


94 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


brimming over with curiosity, and 
there were wonderful things which 
Mr. and Mrs. Quack could tell him, for 
they are great travelers. 

Now once, as Mrs. Quack was telling 
Peter about the far-away Southland 
where she and Mr. Quack and many 
other birds spend each winter, she 
mentioned Old Ally the ’Gator. Peo- 
ple who live where he does call him 
just ’Gator, but you and I would call 
him Alligator. 

At the mention of Old Ally, all 
Peter’s curiosity was awakened, for 
Mrs. Quack had said that foolish young 
ducks sometimes mistook him for an 
old log floating in the water and didn’t 
find out the difference until his great 
mouth flew open and he swallowed them 
whole. At that Peter’s eyes threat- 
ened to pop right out of his head and 
every time he visited that little pond 


OLD MRS. ’GATOR’S INCUBATOR 95 


he pestered Mrs. Quack with questions 
about Old Ally the ’Gator and Mrs. 
’Gator. It seemed as if he couldn’t 
think of anything else. And when 
Mrs. Quack just happened to mention 
that little ’Gators are hatched from 
eggs just as her own children are, it 
was almost too much for Peter to be- 
lieve. 

“ What? ” he squealed, hopping up 
and down in excitement. “ Do you 
mean to tell me that anything as big 
as Old Ally, big enough to swallow 
you whole, can come from an egg? I 
don’t believe it! Besides, only birds 
lay eggs.” 

“ Quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, quack, 
quack, 

Peter, you must take that back ! ’ ’ 

cried Mrs. Quack. 

“ Why must I take it back? ” de- 
manded Peter. 


96 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ Because as usual you’ve let your 
tongue run loose, and that is a bad 
habit, Peter. It certainly is a bad 
habit. How about the Snake family? ” 
“ Oh! ” said Peter, looking very 
foolish. “ I forgot all about the 
Snakes. They do lay eggs.” 

“ And how about Spotty the Turtle? 
Didn’t he come from an egg? ” per- 
sisted Mrs. Quack. 

Peter looked more foolish than be- 
fore, if that were possible. “ Y-e-s,” 
he replied slowly and reluctantly. 

“ Then don’t be so quick to doubt a 
thing just because you’ve never seen 
it,” retorted Mrs. Quack. “I’ve seen 
Mrs. ’Gator build her nest more than 
once, and I’ve seen her eggs, and I’ve 
seen the baby ’Gators; and what 
is more, I’m not in the habit of 
telling things that I don’t know are 


OLD MRS. ’GATOR’S INCUBATOR 


97 


“ I beg your pardon, Mrs. Quack.” 
Peter was very bumble. “ I do indeed. 
Please forgive me. Is — is Mrs. 
’Gator’s nest at all like yours? ” 

Peter seemed so truly sorry for hav- 
ing doubted her that Mrs. Quack re- 
covered her good nature at once. 
“ No,” said she, “ it isn’t. If I hadn’t 
seen her make it, I wouldn’t have 
known it was a nest. You see, one 
spring I got hurt so that I couldn’t 
take my usual long journey to the Par 
North and had to spend the summer 
way down in the Southland where 
I always lived in the winter, and that 
is how I happened to learn about Mrs. 
’Gator’s nest and eggs and a lot of 
other things. Mrs. ’Gator is lazy, but 
she is smart. She’s smart enough to 
make Mr. Sim do her work. What do 
you think of that? ” 

Right away Peter was all excite- 


98 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


ment. You see, that sounded as if 
there might be a story behind it. “ 1 
never have heard of such a thing !” he 
cried. “ How did she learn to do such a 
smart thing as that? Of course I don’t 
for a minute believe that she herself dis- 
covered a way to get Mr. Sun to work 
for her. Probably it was her ever-so- 
great-grandmother who first did it. 
Isn’t that so, Mrs. Quack? ” 

Mrs. Quack nodded. “ You’ve 
guessed it, Peter,” said she. “It all 
happened way, way back in the days 
when the world was young.” 

“ Tell me about it! Please, please 
tell me about it, Mrs. Quack, and the 
first chance I get, I’ll do something for 
you,” begged Peter. 

Mrs. Quack carefully went over all 
her feathers to see that every one was 
in place, for she is very particular 
about how she looks. When she was 


OLD MRS. ’GATOR’S INCUBATOR 99 

quite satisfied, she turned to Peter, 
fidgeting on the bank. 

“ Way back in the days when the 
world was young,” said she, “ Old 
Mother Nature made the first Alli- 
gators before she made the first birds, 
or the first a nim als, so Old Ally and 
Mrs. ’Gator, who live way down south 
now, belong to a very old family and 
are proud of it. In the beginning of 
things there was very little dry land, 
as you may have heard, so old Mr. 
and Mrs. ’Gator, who of course were 
not old then, were made to live in the 
water with the fish. Old Mother 
Nature was experimenting then. She 
was planning to make a great deal 
more land, and she wanted living crea- 
tures on it, so she gave the ’Gators legs 
and feet instead of fins, and lungs to 
breathe air instead of gills for breath- 
ing in the water as fish do. Then, hav- 


100 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

ing many other things to attend to, she 
told them they would have to take 
care of themselves, and went about her 
business. 

“ It didn’t take Mr. and Mrs. ’Gator 
long to discover that their legs were 
not of much use in the water, for they 
used their powerful tails for swim- 
ming. Then one day Mrs. ’Gator 
crawled out on land and right away 
discovered what those legs were for. 
She could go on dry land while fishes 
could not. It didn’t take her long to 
find out that nothing was quite so fine 
as a sun-bath, as she lay stretched out 
on the bank, so she and Mr. ’Gator 
spent most of their time on sunny days 
taking sun-baths. 

“ One day Old Mother Nature came 
along and whispered a wonderful 
secret to Mrs. ’Gator. 1 1 am going to 
give you some eggs,’ whispered Old 


OLD MRS. 'GATOR’S INCUBATOR 101 

Mother Nature, ‘ some eggs of your 
very own, and if you watch over them 
and keep them warm, out of each one 
a baby ’Gator will some day creep. 
But if you let those eggs get cold, there 
will be no babies. Don’t forget that 
you must keep them warm.’ 

“ Old Mother Nature was as good 
as her word. She gave Mrs. ’Gator 
twenty beautiful white eggs, and Mrs. 
’Gator was perfectly happy. Those 
eggs were the most precious things in 
all the Great World. It seemed as if 
she never would grow tired of looking 
at them and admiring them and of 
dreaming of the day when her babies 
should come out of them. It was very 
pleasant to lie there in the sun and 
dream of the babies to come from those 
wonderful eggs. Suddenly, right into 
the midst of those pleasant dreams, 
broke the memory of what Old Mother 


102 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Nature had said about keeping those 
eggs warm. All in a twinkling happi- 
ness was turned to worry. 

“ ‘ What can I do? What can I 
do? ’ Mrs. ’Gator kept saying over and 
over. ‘ However can I keep them 
warm when Mr. Sun goes to bed at 
night? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! My beau- 
tiful eggs ne?er,%ever will turn to dar- 
ling babies! What can I do? ’ 

“ All this time Mr. ’Gator was a 
great deal more interested in making 
himself comfortable than he was in 
those eggs. He had picked out a place 
where all day long Mr. Sun poured 
down his warmest rays, and he had 
dug a place to sprawl out in comfort- 
ably. The sand he had thrown in a 
pile at one side. When Mrs. ’Gator 
went to consult Mr. ’Gator about those 
precious eggs and her worries when 
the cool of evening had come, she hap- 


OLD MRS. 'GATOR’S INCUBATOR 103 


pened to put one foot in that loose pile 
of sand, and she found that while the 
sand on the outside was already cool, 
that down inside the pile was still 
warm. A clever idea came to her like 
a flash. 

“ First she sent Mr. ’Gator into the 
water to get his supper. Then she 
scooped a hole in thai pile of warm 
sand, and in it she put her precious 
eggs and carefully covered them up 
with sand. When this was done she 
stretched out close by to keep watch 
and see that nothing disturbed those 
treasures. That was a very anxious 
night for Mrs. ’Gator. The sand on 
which she lay grew very cool. When 
at last day came and Mr. Sun once 
more began to shine, she opened that 
pile of sand and great was her joy to 
find that inside it was still warm. 
When Mr. ’Gator came crawling out of 


104 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


the water to spend the day in that com- 
fortable bed he had dug, she chased 
him away and was so cross that he 
went off grumbling and dug another 
bed. Mrs. ’Gator waited until Mr. 
Sun had made the sand very warm 
indeed, and then she made a great 
mound of it, and in the middle of it 
were her precious eggs. Night and 
day she kept guard, and all the time 
she worried lest those eggs should not 
be warm enough. Then one day 
twenty baby ’Gators dug their way 
out of that mound of sand. Yes, Sir, 
they did. 

“ All this happened long, long ago 
when the world was young, and ever 
since then ’Gators have lived only way 
down south, where it is very warm and 
where Mr. Sun will hatch their eggs 
for them. And today it is done just 
as I’ve told you, for I’ve seen with my 


OLD MRS. ’GATOR’S INCUBATOR 105 

own eyes Mrs. ’Gator build her nest, 
cover her eggs, and then lie around 
while Mr. Sun did the work for her. 
What do you think of that? ” 

“ I think that if you hadn’t told me 
that you had seen it with your own 
eyes, Mrs. Quack, I should think it a 
fairy story,” replied Peter. 


VIII 

WHERE MR. QUACK GOT HIS WEBBED 
FEET 



VIII 


WHERE MR. QUACK GOT HIS WEBBED FEET 

T WICE every year, in the early 
spring and in the late fall, 
Peter Rabbit watches the 
Smiling Pool with a great deal of 
eagerness. Can you guess why? It 
is because two very good friends of 
Peter’s are in the habit of stopping 
there for a few days for rest and re- 
freshment before continuing the long 
journey which they are obliged to 
make. They are Mr. and Mrs. Quack, 
the Mallard Ducks. Peter is very fond 
of them, and when the time for their 
arrival draws near, Peter watches for 
them with a great deal of anxiety. 
You see they have told him something 


110 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

of the terrible dangers which they 
always encounter on these long jour- 
neys, and so Peter is always afraid 
that something terrible may have hap- 
pened to them, and it is a great relief 
when he finds them swimming about 
in the Smiling Pool. 

One reason Peter is so fond of Mr. 
and Mrs. Quack is because they always 
have a story for him. Sometimes it is 
a story of adventure, a tale of terrible 
danger and narrow escapes. Sometimes 
it is about their home in the far North- 
land, and again it is about the wonderful 
Southland where they spend the win- 
ter. But the story that Peter likes best 
is the one about where and how the 
Quack family got their funny, webbed 
feet. Mr. Quack doesn’t think those 
feet funny at all, but Peter does. He 
never grows tired of watching Mr. and 
Mrs. Quack use them, because, you 


MR. QUACK’S WEBBED FEET 111 

know, they are used so differently 
from other feet. And always he goes 
back to the dear Old Briar-patch with 
renewed admiration for the wisdom of 
Old Mother Nature. 

Peter noticed those feet the first 
time he met Mr. and Mrs. Quack. He 
couldn’t help but notice them. It hap- 
pened that Mr. and Mrs. Quack were 
out on the bank of the Smiling Pool 
as Peter came hurrying over in his 
usual way, lipperty-lipperty-lip. They 
heard him coming and not knowing at 
first who it was they at once started 
for the water. Peter never will forget 
the funny way in which they waddled. 
He never had seen anybody quite so 
awkwr^d. But when they reached the 
water he forgot to laugh. He simply 
stared open-mouthed in astonishment. 
You see there they were as graceful 
as they had been awkward on land. 


112 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

Afterward, when Peter had become ac- 
quainted with them and they were 
the best of friends, he ventured to 
speak of their queer feet. 

“ Do you know,” said he, “ you have 
the most interesting feet of anybody I 
know of. They are so broad that the 
first time I saw them I couldn’t be- 
lieve my own eyes. I didn’t suppose 
anybody had such broad feet. I sup- 
pose there is some special reason why 
they are so broad and why your legs 
are so short. Do you know how 
Mother Nature happened to give you 
feet so different from the feet of other 
birds, Mr. Quack? ” 

Mr. Quack chuckled. “ I tell you 
what it is, Peter,” said he, “ if you’ll 
tell me why it is you have such long 
hind legs and such a funny short tail, 
I’ll tell you why it is that Mrs. Quack 
and I have such broad feet, though I 


MR. QUACK’S WEBBED FEET 113 

must confess that I don’t see anything 
odd about them.” 

Peter agreed at once. He told Mr. 
and Mrs. Quack all about what hap- 
pened to his grandfather a thousand 
times removed, the very first Rabbit, 
way back when the world was young, 
and how ever since then all Rabbits 
have had long hind legs and short tails. 
When he had finished Mr. Quack 
thoughtfully scratched his handsome 
green head, looked at his reflection in 
the Smiling Pool to make sure that he 
was looking his very best, looked be- 
hind to see that the feathers in the tip 
of his tail had the proper curl, and then 
gazed off over the Green Meadows 
with a far-away look in his eyes as if 
he were looking way back to the time 
he was to tell about. At last, just as 
Peter Rabbit was beginning to lose 
patience Mr. Quack began. 


114 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ It must be, Peter,” said be, “ that 
my great - great - ever - so - great - grand - 
father lived just about the same time 
as your great - great - ever - so - great - 
grandfather, way back in the days 
when the world was young. Perhaps 
they knew each other. Perhaps they 
were acquainted just as you and I are 
now. Anyway, according to what has 
been handed down in the family, 
Grandfather Quack was very much 
such a looking fellow as I am now, 
except in the matter of his bill and 
feet. His bill was not broad like mine 
but more like the bills of other birds, 
and his feet were like the feet of Mr. 
Grouse and Bob White. They were 
made for scratching, and there was 
nothing between the toes. You see, 
Old Mother Nature was experimenting. 
She made everybody a little different 
from everybody else and then started 


MR. QUACK’S WEBBED FEET 115 

them forth in the Great World to shift 
for themselves and to find out what 
they really needed that they hadn’t 
got. 

“ Old Mr. Quack, my great-great- 
ever-so-great-grandfather, soon dis- 
covered one thing, and that was that 
his legs were too short for him to get 
around very fast. When he walked, 
everybody laughed at him. When he 
tried to run, they laughed harder than 
ever. He didn’t mind this so very 
much, though he did a little. Nobody 
likes to be laughed at, especially when 
it is because of something they can- 
not help. But what he did mind was 
the fact that his neighbors could run 
about so much faster than he that they 
got all the best of the food, and quite 
often he went hungry. 

“ One day he happened to be sitting 
on the bank of the Smiling Pool, think- 


116 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


ing the matter over and wondering 
what he had best do, when Mr. Fox 
stole up behind him and startled him 
so that he lost his balance and tumbled 
down the bank into the water. This 
frightened him more than ever, and 
he flapped about and squawked and 
squawked and flapped until Mr. Fox 
nearly split his sides laughing at him. 
And when he was quite out of breath, 
Mr. Quack discovqred that he was 
making all this fuss for nothing. He 
didn’t sink, but floated on the water, 
and what was more the water didn’t 
get under his feathers at all. When he 
tried to walk, of course he couldn’t, 
and he had a funny feeling because his 
feet didn’t touch anything and felt so 
very useless. But he kept moving 
them back and forth, and pretty soon 
he discovered that he moved ahead. 
Of course he moved very slowly, be- 


MR. QUACK’S WEBBED FEET 117 

cause his feet were not made for use 
in the water, but he moved, and that 
was enough. He knew then that he 
could get back to land. Then he tried 
his wings and he found that he could 
rise into the air from the water quite 
as easily as from the land. Right then 
and there all fear of the water left him. 
In fact, he liked it. 

“ Little by little, Grandfather Quack 
began to understand that he had made 
a great discovery. He had discovered 
the safest place in all the Great World 
for him. Out on the water he was safe 
from Mr. Fox and Mr. Wolf and all the 
other four-footed hunters. So he took 
to spending most of his time on the 
water or near it. When he wanted a 
nap, he would hide among the rushes 
that grew in the water. ‘ If only I 
didn’t have to leave the water for 
food! ’ sighed Grandfather Quack. ‘ If 


118 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

only I could find food here, I would 
never leave the water.’ 

“ At the time he was squatting at 
the very edge of the Smiling Pool. 
Presently he noticed a funny water 
bug crawling on the bottom where the 
water was only an inch or two deep. 
‘ 1 wonder if that fellow is good to 
eat,’ thought he, and almost without 
thinking he plunged his head under 
water and caught the bug. It was 
good. Grandfather Quack at once 
started to look for more, and while 
doing this he discovered that there 
were a great many seeds from the 
rushes scattered about in the mud at 
the bottom of the Smiling Pool, and 
that these also were good to eat. Then 
quite by accident he got hold of a 
tender root in the mud and found that 
this was especially good. 

“ This was enough for Grandfather 


MR. QUACK'S WEBBED FEET 119 

Quack. He had found that he could 
get plenty to eat without leaving the 
Smiling Pool. Moreover, he didn’t 
have to share it with anybody, because 
there was no one else who thought of 
looking for food there. He knew when 
he was well off. So Grandfather 
Quack grew fat and was happy. The 
only things that bothered him were 
the slowness with which he had to pick 
up seeds, one at a time, and the slow- 
ness with which he could paddle about, 
for you couldn’t really call it swim- 
ming. But in spite of these things he 
was happy and made the best of his 
lot. 

“ One day he tugged and tugged at 
a root with his head under water. 
When at last he had to bring his head 
up for a breath, whom should he dis- 
cover but Old Mother Nature watching 
him from the opposite bank. ‘ Come 


120 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

over here, Mr. Quack, and tell me all 
about it/ she commanded. 

“ Grandfather Quack started across 
the Smiling Pool, but because his feet 
were not made for swimming, it took 
him a long time to get there. Old 
Mother Nature smiled as she watched 
him. ‘ You look better on the water 
than you do on land/ said she. ‘ In 
fact, I believe that is just where you 
belong. Now tell me how you hap- 
pened to take to the water.’ 

“ Grandfather Quack told her the 
whole story and how Old Mother 
Nature did laugh when he described 
how frightened he was when he fell 
in that time. Suddenly she reached 
out and caught him by the bill. ‘ I 
don’t think much of that bill for pok- 
ing about in the mud/ said she. 
‘ How will this do? ’ She let go, and 
Grandfather Quack found he had a 


MR. QUACK’S WEBBED FEET 121 

broad bill just suited for getting food 
out of the mud. Then Old Mother 
Nature bade him hold forth first one 
foot and then the other. Between the 
toes she stretched a tough skin clear 
to the toe nails. ‘ Now let me see you 
swim,’ said she. 

“ Grandfather Quack tried. He 
kicked one foot and then the other, 
and to his great joy he shot along 
swiftly. When he drew his feet back 
for another kick his toes closed to- 
gether, and so his feet came through 
the water easily. But when he kicked 
back they were wide spread, and the 
skin between them pushed against the 
water, and drove him ahead. It was 
wonderful! It was splendid! He 
hurried over to Old Mother Nature, 
and with tears of joy in his eyes he 
thanked her. And from that day to 
this members of my family have had 


122 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


the same broad bills and webbed feet, 
and have lived on the water,” concluded 
Mr. Quack. 


IX 

WHERE THUNDERFOOT THE BISON GOT 
HIS HUMP 


IX 

WHERE THUNDERFOOT THE BISON GOT HIS 
HUMP 

T HUNDERFOOT THE BISON, 
often called Buffalo, is not a 
handsome fellow, as you very 
well know if you have seen him or a pic- 
ture of him. His head is carried low, 
very near the ground, and on his shoul- 
ders is a great hump. No, you wouldn’t 
call him handsome. You would hardly 
call him good-looking even. In fact, 
you would, I suspect, call him homely. 
Certainly there is nothing about him 
to suggest pride. Yet according to the 
story Digger the Badger once told 


126 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

Peter Rabbit, pride and nothing less 
was the cause of that big hump which 
makes Thunderfoot appear so clumsy 
and homely. 

Peter Rabbit, as you know, is very 
fond of stories. In this respect he is 
very like some other folks I know. Any- 
way, he never misses a chance for a 
story if he can help it. He had dis- 
covered that Digger the Badger and 
Old Man Coyote, both of whom had 
come to the Green Meadows from the 
Far West, were full of stories about 
their neighbors of the distant prairies, 
folk whom Peter never had seen. 
Sometimes when he had nothing else to 
do, Old Man Coyote would come over 
to the dear Old Briar-patch and tell 
stories to Peter, who sat safe behind 
the brambles. Perhaps Old Man Co- 
yote hoped that Peter would become 
so interested that he would forget and 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 127 


come out of the dear Old Briar-patch. 
But Peter never did. 

But most of the stories of the people 
of the Far West Peter got from Digger 
the Badger because, you see, he wasn’t 
afraid to go beg for them. He knew 
that Digger couldn’t catch him if he 
wanted to, and so when Grandfather 
Frog hadn’t a story for him, Peter 
would go tease Digger for one. It was 
thus that he heard about Thunderfoot 
the Bison and where he got that great 
hump of his. 

“I don’t suppose,” said Peter, 
“ that there are any very big people 
out there on those prairies where you 
used to live any more than there are 
here on the Green Meadows. All the 
very big people seem to prefer to live 
in the Green Forest.” 

“ It is that way now, I must admit,” 
said Digger the Badger, “ but it wasn’t 


128 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


so in the old days, in the good old days 
when there were no terrible guns, and 
Thunderfoot and his followers shook 
the ground with their feet.” Digger 
shook his head sadly. 

Instantly Peter pricked up his ears. 
“ Who was Thunderfoot? ” he de- 
manded. 

Digger looked at Peter with such 
a look of pity for Peter’s ignorance 
that Peter felt almost ashamed. “ He 
doesn’t live here and never did, so far 
as I have heard, so how should I know 
anything about him? ” he added a wee 
bit defiantly. 

“ If that’s the case,” replied Digger, 
‘ 4 it is time you learned about the Lord 
of the Prairies.” 

“ But I want to know about Thunder- 
foot first! ” cried Peter. “ You can 
tell me about the Lord of the Prairies 
another time.” 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 129 


“ Were you born stupid or have you 
grown so? ” asked Digger impatiently. 
Then without waiting for an answer 
he added: “ Thunderfoot was the Lord 
of the Prairies. He ruled over the 
Wide Prairies just as Old King Bear 
ruled in the Green Forest. He ruled 
by might. He ruled because no one 
dared deny him the right to rule. He 
ruled because of his great size and his 
great strength. And all who lived on 
the Wide Prairies looked up to him 
and admired him and bowed before 
him and paid him the utmost respect. 
When he and his followers ran the 
earth shook, and the noise was like 
thunder, and everybody hastened to 
get out of the way and to warn his 
neighbors, crying: ‘ Here comes my 
Lord of the Prairies! Make way! 
Make way! 9 And truly Thunderfoot 
and his followers were a magnificent 


130 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


sight, so my great-grandfather told 
me, and he had it from his great-grand- 
father, who was told so by his great- 
grandfather, who saw it all with his 
own eyes. But that was in the days 
before Thunderfoot’s head was brought 
low, and he was given the great hump 
which none of his descendants have 
ever been able to get rid of.” 

“ Tell me about that hump and 
where my Lord of the Prairies, Thun- 
derfoot the Bison, got it! ” begged 
Peter, with shining eyes. That there 
was a story he hadn’t the least 
doubt. 

Digger the Badger flattened himself 
out on the ground, and into his eyes 
crept a dreamy, far-away look as if he 
were seeing things a great, great way 
off. “ Way back in the days when the 
world was young, so my great-grand- 
father said,” he began, “ Th underfoot, 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 131 


the first Bison, was given the Wide 
Prairies for a kingdom by Old Mother 
Nature and strode forth to take posses- 
sion. Big was he, the biggest of all 
living creatures thereabouts. Strong 
was he with a strength none cared to 
test. And he was handsome. He held 
his head proudly. Ail who lived on 
the Wide Prairies admired him with a 
great admiration and hastened to pay 
homage to him. 

“ For a long time he ruled wisely. 
All the other people brought their dis- 
putes to him to be settled, and so 
wisely did he decide them that the 
fame of his wisdom spread even be- 
yond the Wide Prairies and was talked 
about in the Green Forest. The hum- 
blest of his subjects could come to him 
freely and be sure of a hearing and 
that justice would be done. Big as he 
was and mighty as he was, he took the 


132 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


greatest care never to forget the rights 
of others. 

“ But there came a time when flat- 
tery turned his head, as the saying is. 
Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox were the chief 
flatterers, and in all the Great World 
there were no smoother tongues than 
theirs. They never lost an opportunity 
to tell him how handsome he was, and 
how mighty he was, and how they ad- 
mired him and looked up to him, and 
how unequaled was his wisdom. You 
see, being themselves dishonest and 
mischief-makers, they frequently were 
in trouble with their neighbors and 
would have to appear before Thunder- 
foot for judgment. Even when it went 
against them they praised the wisdom 
of it, admitting that they were in the 
wrong and begging forgiveness, all of 
which was very flattering to Thun- 
derfoot. 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 133 


“ Little by little, without knowing 
it, he yielded to the flattery of Mr. 
Coyote and Mr. Fox. He liked to hear 
the pleasant things they said. Little 
by little it became easier to find them 
in the right than in the wrong when 
they were accused of wronging their 
neighbors. Of course they flattered 
him still more. They hinted to him 
that it was beneath the dignity of one 
so big and strong and handsome to 
take notice of the very small and 
humble people like Mr. Meadow Mouse 
and Mr. Toad and Mr. Meadow Lark 
and others of his subjects. 

“ Gradually the little people of the 
iWide Prairies began to notice a change 
in Thunderfoot. He became proud and 
vain. He openly boasted of his 
strength and fine appearance. When 
he met them he passed them haughtily, 
not seeing them at all, or at least ap- 


134 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


pearing not to. No longer did he re- 
gard the rights of others. No longer 
did he watch out not to crush the nest 
of Mrs. Meadow Lark or to step on the 
babies of Danny Meadow Mouse. It 
came about that when the thunder of 
his feet was heard, those with homes 
on the ground shivered with fright 
and hoped that my Lord of the Prairies 
would not come their way. 

“ One day, as he raced over the 
Wide Prairies for no reason but that 
he felt like running, Mr. Meadow Lark 
flew to meet him. Mr. Meadow Lark 
was in great distress. ‘ Turn aside, 
my Lord! ’ he begged. 4 Turn aside, 
my Lord of the Prairies, for before 
you lies my nest with four precious 
eggs, and I fear you will step on 
them! ’ 

“ Thunderfoot the Bison, Lord of 
the Wide Prairies, tossed his head. 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 135 

1 If you will build your nest where it 
can be trodden on, you can’t expect me 
to look out for it,’ said he. 6 If any- 
thing so unfortunate happens to it, it 
is your own fault, and you mustn’t 
blame me.’ And he neither looked 
down to see where he was putting his 
feet nor turned aside so much as an 
inch. On he galloped, and presently 
with a cry of fright out from beneath 
his feet flew Mrs. Meadow Lark, and 
at the very next step he trod on the 
little nest in the grass and crushed the 
four eggs. 

“ Mr. Coyote, who was racing beside 
him on one side and saw what had 
happened, grinned. Mr. Fox, who was 
racing beside him on the other side 
and saw what had happened, grinned. 
Seeing them grin, Thunderfoot himself 
grinned. Thus grinning heartlessly, 
they continued to run until they came 


136 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

to a place where Mother Nature 
walked among the flowers of the Wide 
Prairies. Mr. Coyote and Mr. Fox, 
whose heads were not held so high, 
saw her in time to put their tails be- 
tween their legs and slink away. 
Thunderfoot, holding his head high, 
failed to see her until he was so close 
to her that it was with difficulty he 
stopped before running her down. 

“ ‘ My Lord of the Prairies seems in 
fine spirits/ said Mother Nature 
softly. ‘ Is all well with my Lord? ’ 

“ Thunderfoot tossed his head 
proudly. ‘ All is well/ said he. 

u< Iam sorry that others cannot say 
as much/ replied Mother Nature, and 
all the softness was gone from her 
voice, and it was sharp. ‘ I seem to 
hear the sobs of a broken-hearted little 
Meadow Lark/ she continued. i Little 
though she be and humble, she is as 


WHERE THE BISON GOT HIS HUMP 137 


much to me as is my Lord of the 
Prairies who has made her suffer.’ 

“ Stooping swiftly, Mother Nature 
picked up her staff and with it struck 
Thunderfoot on the neck, so that his 
head was brought low, and in fear of 
another blow he humped his shoulders 
up. ‘ Thus shall you be, still big, still 
strong, but hump-shouldered and 
carrying your head low in shame, no 
longer Lord of the Prairies, until such 
time as you restore to Mrs. Meadow 
Lark the eggs you destroyed, ’ said she, 
and turned her back on him. 

“ It was so. From that day on, 
Thunderfoot ceased to rule over the 
Wide Prairies. He was hump-shoul- 
dered and he carried his head low, 
looking and looking for the eggs he 
never could find to restore to Mrs. 
Meadow Lark. And though his chil- 
dren and his children’s children be- 


138 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

came many, there never was one with- 
out the hump or who ceased to carry 
his head low in shame,” concluded 
Digger the Badger. 


X 

WHERE LIMBERHEELS GOT HIS LONG 
TAIL 








f 




X 

WHERE LIMBERHEELS GOT HIS LONG TAIL 

H AVE you ever seen Limber- 
beels the Jumping Mouse 
when be was in a burry? If 
you have, very likely tbe first time 
you felt very much as Peter Rabbit 
did when be saw Limberbeels for tbe 
first time. He was bopping along 
across tbe Green Meadows with noth- 
ing much on bis mind when from right 
under bis wobbly nose something shot 
into tbe air over tbe tops of tbe grasses 
for eight or ten feet and then down 
and out of sight. Peter rubbed bis 
eyes. 


142 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ Did I see it, or didn’t I? And if 
I did, what was it? ” gasped Peter. 

A squeaky little laugh answered 
him. “ You saw it all right, Peter, but 
it isn’t polite to call any one it . He 
would be quite provoked if he had 
heard you. That was my cousin, 
Limberheels,” replied a voice quite as 
squeaky as the laugh had been. 

Peter turned to see the bright eyes 
of Danny Meadow Mouse twinkling 
at him from the entrance to a tiny 
little path that joined the bigger path in 
which Peter was sitting. 

“ Hello, Danny!” he exclaimed. 
“ Do you mean to tell me that was a 
relative of yours? Since when have 
any of your relatives taken to flying? ” 
Danny chuckled. “ He wasn’t fly- 
ing,” he retorted. “ He just jumped, 
that was all.” Danny chuckled again, 
for he knows that Peter considers him- 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


143 


self quite a jumper and is inclined to 
be a bit jealous of any one else who 
pretends to jump save his cousin, 
Jumper the Hare. 

“Jumped!” snorted Peter. 
“ Jumped! Do you expect me to be- 
lieve that any Mouse can jump like 
that? I didn’t get a good look at that 
fellow, but whoever he is I tell you 
he flew. Nobody can jump like that.” 

Danny chuckled again. “ Wait a 
minute, Peter,” said he. He disap- 
peared, and Peter waited. He waited 
one minute, two minutes, three min- 
utes, and then suddenly Danny poked 
his head out from the grass beside the 
path. “ Here he is, Peter,” said he, 
coming wholly out into the path. 
“ Let me introduce my cousin, Limber- 
heels.” 

As he spoke the grass beside him 
rustled, and out crept some one beside 


144 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

whom Danny Meadow Mouse looked 
big, clumsy and homely. One glance 
was enough to tell Peter that the 
stranger was a sure-enough member 
of the Mouse family, but such a mem- 
ber as he never had seen before. He 
was trim and slender. He wore a red- 
dish-brown coat with a white waist- 
coat. But the things that made Peter 
stare very impolitely were his tail 
and his legs. His tail was nearly twice 
as long as his body, slim and tapering, 
and his hind legs were very long, 
while his fore legs were short. It took 
only one glance to convince Peter that 
here was a bom jumper. Any one 
built like that must jump. 

“ You two must become acquainted 
and be friends,” continued Danny 
Meadow Mouse. “ Peter is one of my 
best friends, Limberheels. He 
wouldn’t hurt a flea. I’m sure that 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


145 


from now on lie will be one of your 
best friends.’* 

“ I’ll be happy to,” said Peter 
promptly. u Danny has been telling 
me what a wonderful jumper you are. 
Would you mind showing me how you 
jump? I guess you jumped right in 
front of me a few minutes ago, but I 
was so surprised that I didn’t really 
see you.” 

“ I guess I did,” replied Limberheels 
rather timidly. “ You see, I didn’t 
hear you coming until you were almost 
on top of me, and then I didn’t know 
who it was so I got away as quickly 
as I could. I’ll be ever so glad to have 
you for a friend and next time I won’t 
run away.” 

“ Show him how you can jump,” 
interrupted Danny Meadow Mouse. 
u He wouldn’t believe me when I told 
him that you didn’t fly.” 


146 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Limberheels grinned rather sheep- 
ishly. “ Of course I didn’t fly,” said 
he. “ No animal can fly but Flitter 
the Bat. I just jumped like this.” 

With a tremendous spring from his 
long hind legs Limberheels leaped, 
while Peter Rabbit stared, his mouth 
wide open with astonishment. He 
hadn’t dreamed that any one could 
jump so far in proportion to his size 
as this slim, trim little cousin of 
Danny’s. Later, after Limberheels 
had jumped for Peter’s benefit until 
he was tired and had gone to hunt for 
a lunch of grass seeds, Peter wanted 
to know all about Limberheels. 

“ Never in my life have I seen such 
jumping,” he declared. “ And never 
have I seen such a tail. I thought 
Whitefoot the Wood Mouse had a fine 
tail, but it doesn’t compare with that of 
Limberheels.” 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


147 


“It is a fine tail,” replied Danny, 
whose own tail, as you know, is very 
short. 

“It is a fine tail,” he repeated 
rather wistfully. “ Would you like to 
hear where he got it? ” 

“ I know,” retorted Peter with a 
grin. “ He got it from his father, who 
got it from his father, and so on way 
back to the days when the world was 
young.” Then, seeing a look of disap- 
pointment on Danny’s face, and eager 
for a story as usual, he added: “ But 
I would like to know how such a tail 
as that came in the family.” 

Danny brightened up at once. “ It’s 
funny how things come about in this 
world,” he began. “ The great-great- 
ever-so-great-grandfather of Limber- 
heels, the first one, you know, was 
quite an ordinary Mouse when Old 
Mother Nature made him and started 


148 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


him out to make his way in the Great 
World. He was little, one of the small- 
est of the family, and his tail was 
short, no longer than mine. His hind 
legs were like those of all his relatives. 
He ran about just as his relatives did. 
He was so small and kept out of sight 
so much that he didn’t even have a 
name. There was nothing about him 
to suggest a name. 

“ For a long time he was contented 
and happy. Then one day he hap- 
pened to see Mr. Hare jump. It 
seemed to him the most wonderful 
thing in the world that any one should 
be able to jump like that. So he began 
to spend most of his spare time where 
he could watch Mr. Hare. One day 
Old Mother Nature happened along 
unseen by him, as he was watching Mr. 
Hare jump, and she overheard him say 
very, very wistfully, 6 How I wish I 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


149 


could jump like that! I wish I had 
long hind legs like Mr. Hare.’ 

“ Old Mother Nature’s kindly eyes 
twinkled. ‘ That’s easily arranged,’ 
said she. ‘ If you think long hind legs 
will be of more use to you than the 
ones you have, you shall have them:’ 

“ The next morning when little Mr. 
Mouse awoke, he discovered that in the 
night something had happened to his 
hind legs. They were very long and 
strong, regular jumping legs like those 
of Mr. Hare. Of course he was in such 
a great hurry to try them that he 
couldn’t wait for his, breakfast. He 
began by making little short hops, and 
in no time at all he was getting about 
splendidly. At last he got up his cour- 
age to try a long jump. Up in the air 
he shot, and then something happened. 
Yes, Sir, something happened. He 
couldn’t keep his balance. He turned 


150 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


two or three somersaults and landed 
on his back. 

“ c I guess/ said he to himself, 
‘ I’ve got to learn to make long jumps.’ 
So he kept trying and trying, but 
always with the same result — he 
never knew when, where, or how he 
was going to land. As long as he made 
short jumps he had no trouble, but 
every time he tried a long jump he 
lost his balance, and try as he would 
he couldn’t discover why. So at last 
he gave up trying and contented him- 
self with short jumps. Finally Old 
Mother Nature came that way again. 

“ 4 How do you like your long hind 
legs? ’ she asked. 

“ ‘ Very much, thank you,’ replied 
little Mr. Mouse politely. 

“ 4 Let me see you jump,’ said Old 
Mother Nature. 

11 Little Mr. Mouse made half a 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


151 


dozen little jumps. They were not 
much more than hops. ‘ You don’t 
call that jumping, do you? ’ laughed 
Old Mother Nature. c With such long, 
strong legs as I’ve given you, you 
ought to be one of the best jumpers 
anywhere about. Now let me see you 
make a long jump.’ 

“ Little Mr. Mouse tried his best to 
think of some excuse, but he couldn’t. 
So he made a long jump, and the usual 
thing happened — he turned two or 
three somersaults and landed on his 
back. Old Mother Nature looked as- 
tonished. Then she laughed until she 
had to hold her sides. 6 Do it again,’ 
she commanded. 

“ With the most shamefaced air that 
you can imagine, little Mr. Mouse 
jumped again. Old Mother Nature 
watched him closely. L Come here to 
me,’ said she as he scrambled to his 


152 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

feet after his tumble. ‘ It’s all my 
fault,’ said she kindly, as he obeyed 
her. i It was very stupid of me. What 
you need is a long tail to balance you 
on a long jump. That short tail is all 
right for short jumps, but it won’t do 
for long jumps. It won’t do at all. I 
should have thought of that when I 
made your legs long.’ 

“ She reached down and took hold 
of the tip of that little short tail and 
drew it out until it was long, almost 
twice as long as the body of little Mr. 
Mouse. 6 Now jump,’ she commanded, 
‘ and jump with all your might.’ 

u A little fearfully but with the be- 
ginning of a little hope Mr. Mouse 
jumped with all his might. Away he 
sailed straight and true and landed 
lightly on his feet so far from where 
he had left the ground that he could 
hardly believe his own eyes as he 


LIMBERHEEL’S LONG TAIL 


153 


looked back. Mother Nature was smil- 
ing. 

“ c There you are, Mr. Limberheels. 
I guess that that will make you quite 
the most wonderful jumper of all my 
children/ said she. 

“ And so it was that little Mr. 
Mouse, all at one time, became pos- 
sessed of a long tail, a name, and the 
ability to out jump all his neighbors,” 
concluded Danny Meadow Mouse. 
“ Do you know,” he added wistfully, 
“ sometimes I envy my cousin Limber- 
heels.” 

“ I envy him myself,” declared 
Peter. 










XI 

WHERE OLD MR. GOBBLER GOT THE 
STRUTTING HABIT 


i 


XI 

WHERE OLD MR. GOBBLER GOT THE 
STRUTTING HABIT 

P ETER RABBIT never will for- 
get the first time he saw Big 
Tom Gobbler. It was very 
early one spring morning, when Peter 
was not yet old enough to have made 
the acquaintance of all the people who 
live in the Green Forest, and when it 
seemed as if the chief thing in life with 
him was to satisfy his curiosity about 
the ways of the Great World. Several 
times when he had been hopping along, 
lipperty-lipperty-lip, through the 
Green Forest just after sun-up, he 
had heard a strange sound quite un- 


158 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


like any other of all the many sounds 
his long ears had learned to know. He 
knew that it was the voice of some one 
who lived in the Green Forest, but 
though he had looked and looked he 
had been unable to discover the owner 
of that voice. 

On this particular morning Peter 
happened to be sitting under some 
ferns on the edge of a little open space 
among the trees when again he heard 
that strange voice. It seemed to come 
from somewhere back in the woods in 
the very direction from which he had 
just come. “ Gobble-obble-obble ! ” 
said the voice, and again a moment 
later “ Gobble-obble-obble! ” 

Peter was just preparing to go back 
to see if he could find the owner of 
that voice when the noise of great 
wings caused him to look up just in 
time to see a bigger bird than he ever 


MR. GOBBLER’S STRUTTING HABIT 159 

had even dreamed of coming swiftly 
over the tree-tops. With his eyes pop- 
ping out and his mouth wide open with 
astonishment, Peter saw the great bird 
set its wings and sail down into the 
little opening on the edge of which 
Peter was sitting. The instant this 
great bird was on the ground, he stood 
as still as if he were made of stone, his 
long neck stretched up. Only the shine 
of a pair of the sharpest eyes Peter 
ever had seen showed that he was 
alive. 

Peter held his breath, and it was so 
still that you could have heard a leaf 
drop had you been there. When at last 
the stranger moved, it was his head 
only. He turned it suddenly to the 
right and a moment later to the left. 
It was plain that he was listening for 
suspicious sounds. All the time his 
bright eyes searched the edge of the 


160 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


opening until Peter, although he was 
well hidden, felt that he must be seen. 
At last, satisfied that all was safe, the 
stranger drew in his neck and began 
to walk about, pecking at the ground 
here and there and swallowing what he 
picked up, though what it was Peter 
couldn’t tell. 

A sound seemed to catch the stran- 
ger’s quick ears, for he stopped and 
stared very hard at a little clump of 
brush. Peter stared at it too. At first 
he saw nothing, but presently he saw 
a head poked out, and this also was a 
stranger. Peter glanced at the big 
stranger in the opening, and for a 
minute he wondered if it could be that 
something was wrong with his eyes. 
Never had he seen such a change in 
anybody. This stranger didn’t look 
like the same bird at all. He was 
swelled up until Peter was afraid he 



This stranger didn’t look like the same bird 
at all. 


Page 159. 

















































































MR. GOBBLER'S STRUTTING HABIT 161 

would burst. His tail was spread out 
like a great fan. His head was laid back 
on his humped shoulders. His wings 
were dropped until the stiffly spread 
feathers brushed the ground. His 
head and neck were as red as blood, 
and there were no feathers on either. 
All the feathers of his body were 
ruffed out so that the sun shone on 
them and made them shimmer and 
shine in colors that seemed to con- 
stantly change. 

Back and forth in front of the brush 
from which the other stranger was 
peeping very shyly this great bird 
strutted. He would stand still so that 
the sun would fall full on his shining 
coat and show it off to the best ad- 
vantage, and at the same time he 
would draw in a great deal of air and 
then puff it out all at once. Then 
he would walk a few steps, turn, drag 


162 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


his wings on the ground to make them 
rustle, wheel, and run a few steps. 
Never had Peter seen such vanity, such 
conceit, such imposing, puffed-up 
pride. He watched until he grew 
tired, and then he stole away and 
hurried over to the Smiling Pool to 
tell Grandfather Prog all about it and 
ask who these strangers were. 

“ Chug-a-rum! ” exclaimed Grand- 
father Frog, opening his big mouth 
very wide to laugh at Peter and his 
excitement. “ That was Big Tom Gob- 
bler, and he was doing all that for the 
benefit of Mrs. Gobbler, who was hid- 
ing in that brush. It was her head 
you saw. Big Tom is the most con- 
ceited fellow in the Green Forest. He 
dearly loves to strut. He is just like 
his father and his grandfather and his 
great-grandfather. The Gobblers never 
have gotten over strutting since Old 


MR. GOBBLERS STRUTTING HABIT 163 


Mr. Gobbler, the first of the family, 
got the habit.” 

“ Tell me about it. Please, Grand- 
father Prog, tell me about it,” begged 
Peter. “ How did Old Mr. Gobbler get 
the habit? ” 

Grandfather Frog chuckle'd. “ He 
got it from admiring his own reflection 
in a pool of water,” said he. “ You 
see, in those days way back when the 
world was young, people had more 
time to form habits than they do now. 
With plenty to eat and little to do, 
they had more time to think about 
themselves than they do now. Old Mr. 
Gobbler soon discovered that he was 
the biggest of all the birds in that part 
of the Great World where he lived, 
and this discovery was, I suspect, the 
beginning of his vanity. Then one day 
as he was walking along, he came to a 
little pool of water. It was very clear, 


164 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


and there wasn't a ripple on the sur- 
face. There for the first time Mr. 
Gobbler saw his reflection. The more 
he looked, the better he liked his own 
appearance. He spread his tail just to 
see how it would look in the water. 
Then he puffed himself out and 
strutted. 

“ ‘ There is nobody to compare 
with me,' thought he, and strutted 
more than ever. 

“ After that he used to steal away 
every day to admire himself in that 
little pool of water. He tried new 
ways of strutting and of puffing him- 
self out. After a while he was no 
longer content to admire himself. He 
wanted others to admire him. So the 
first chance he got he began to strut 
and show off all his grand airs before 
Mrs. Gobbler. At first she paid no 
attention to him. At least that is the 


MR. GOBBLER’S STRUTTING HABIT 165 


way she appeared. She would turn 
her back on him and walk off into the 
bushes. This made Old Mr. Gobbler 
very angry until he discovered that she 
would tiptoe back and watch him ad- 
miringly when she thought he didn’t 
know it. That made him strut all the 
more. 

“ At first all the neighbors used to 
gather around and admire him and tell 
him how handsome he was until his 
head was quite turned, as the saying 
is, and he spent most of his time strut- 
ting and showing off. Then he took 
to bragging and boasting that there 
was no bird to compare with him. Thus 
he became quite unbearable, and all 
his neighbors would turn their backs 
on him when they saw him coming. 
Only Mrs. Gobbler continued to watch 
in secret and to admire him. 

“ Now in those days Mr. Gobbler 


166 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


didn’t have a red head and neck. One 
day Old Mother Nature happened 
along when Mr. Gobbler was strutting 
and boasting how big and brave he 
was. He didn’t see her, and she 
watched him quietly for a few minutes. 
Then she slipped away and hunted up 
Mr. Wolf. 

“ < I want you to steal over where 
Mr. Gobbler is strutting,’ said she, 
‘ and suddenly spring out at him as if 
you intended to catch him.’ 

“ Mr. Wolf grinned and trotted off 
to do her bidding. He found Mr. 
Gobbler swelled up until he looked as 
if he must burst, and bragging to Mrs. 
Gobbler. 

“ ‘ I’m the biggest of all the birds,’ 
bragged Mr. Gobbler. ‘ I’m afraid of 
no one. While you have me with you, 
my dear, you have nothing in all the 
Great World to fear.’ 


MR. GOBBLER’S STRUTTING HABIT 167 

“ Just then out sprang Mr. Wolf 
with all his long, sharp teeth showing. 
Mr. Gobbler gave a yelp of fright. He 
lost his swelled-up appearance as sud- 
denly as a bubble flattens out when it 
is pricked. With a frantic beating of 
his wings he took to the air. Being in 
such a fright, he didn’t see where he 
was going, and struck his head against 
a sharp twig, which tore the skin, for 
there were no feathers to protect it, 
and made it bleed. The blood ran all 
over his head and down his neck, 
though he really was hardly hurt at 
all. Prom the top of a tall tree he 
looked down. There stood Old Mother 
Nature, looking up at him. 

“ ‘ Mr. Gobbler,’ said she, 6 you have 
acquired a bad habit, a very bad habit. 
Hereafter, whenever you become vain 
and strut, your head and neck shall 
become as red as they now are, as a re- 


168 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

minder to you and all who see you of 
how silly it is to be vain and boastful.’ 

“ And so it was. And so it is with 
Big Tom Gobbler to this day. There is 
nothing in the world more foolish than 
vanity,’ ’ concluded Grandfather Frog. 


XII 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS PRETTY 

COAT 






































'* 





























































































xn 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS PRETTY COAT 

P ETER RABBIT never will for- 
get the first time he saw Seek- 
Seek the Ground Squirrel, 
often wrongly called Gopher or Gopher 
Squirrel, but whose real name is Sper- 
mophile, which means seed eater. 
Peter won’t forget that meeting, be- 
cause of the funny mistake he made 
and the foolish feeling he had as a 
result of it. You see, Peter didn’t 
know that there was such a person as 
Seek-Seek. He was hopping along 
across the Green Meadows in his usual 
happy-go-lucky way when, right in 
front of him, he saw what at first he 


172 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


took to be a stake, a small stake, driven 
in the ground. But as he drew nearer, 
it suddenly moved. It wasn’t a stake 
at all, but a very lively small person in 
a striped coat who had been sitting up 
very straight and motionless. 

“ Hello, Striped Chipmunk! What 
are you doing way out here so far from 
the old stone wall? ” exclaimed Peter. 

The small person in the striped coat 
whirled and faced Peter with snapping 
eyes. “ Don’t call me Striped Chip- 
munk, and don’t call me Gopher! ” said 
he very fiercely for so small a person. 
“ I am neither one. I am Seek-Seek 
the Ground Squirrel, and I’ll thank 
you to call me by my own name. I am 
getting everlastingly tired of being 
called the names of other people.” 

Peter looked very foolish. “ I beg 
your pardon,” said he. “ I do indeed. 
I’m sorry. Perhaps you don’t know it, 



Don’t call me Striped Chipmunk, and don’t 
call me Gopher ! ’ ’ said he. 

Page 172 . 













































WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 173 


but you look very much like Striped 
Chipmunk, who is one of my best 
friends. You look so much like him 
that I thought you must be him. I 
wonder if you are related to him.” 

“ Certainly I’m related to him, or he 
is related to me, whichever way you 
please to put it,” snapped Seek-Seek. 
“ •We are cousins. But he is a Rock 
Squirrel, and I am a Ground Squirrel 
which is altogether different. You 
don’t find me where there are rocks 
and stones in the way if I know it. 
Besides, if you used your eyes, you 
would see that we are not dressed alike 
either. Just because we both happen 
to wear stripes is no reason why we 
should be mistaken for each other.” 

Peter looked at Seek-Seek more 
closely than he had, and at once he 
made a discovery. “ Why! ” he ex- 
claimed, “ your coat has more stripes 


174 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


than Striped Chipmunk’s has, hasn’t 
it?” 

“I should hope so,” retorted Seek- 
Seek. 

“ And it has little rows of spots, 
too! ” cried Peter. “ If I had noticed 
those spots at first, I wouldn’t have 
made such a foolish mistake. I do be- 
lieve that your coat is prettier than 
Striped Chipmunk’s, and I had thought 
his as pretty as a coat can be.” 

Seek-Seek looked rather pleased, 
though he tried not to. “ Huh! ” he 
sniffed. “ Of course it’s prettier. It 
took you a long time to find it out. I 
wouldn’t trade coats with Striped 
Chipmunk or anybody else of my ac- 
quaintance.” 

“ Neither would I if I were in your 
place,” declared Peter. “ I wish Old 
Mother Nature had given me a coat 
like that.” He said this so wistfully 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 175 


that Seek-Seek, who had started to 
laugh, turned his head so that Peter 
might not know it. “ I’m afraid it 
wouldn’t look so well on one as big as 
you,” he replied. “ Anyway, you 
wouldn’t be able to hide from your 
enemies as you can now.” 

“ That’s so,” said Peter thought- 
fully. 66 1 would be easily seen in a 
coat like that, for a fact. I hadn’t 
thought of that. I guess Old Mother 
Nature knows best. I — I wonder how 
she ever happened to think of a coat 
like yours.” 

Seek-Seek chuckled. He had quite 
forgotten that he had felt offended be- 
cause Peter had mistaken him for his 
cousin, Striped Chipmunk. He en- 
joyed Peter’s admiration of his coat. 
He is naturally rather talkative, and 
like most folks he enjoyed talking 
about himself. 


176 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ This coat,” said he, “ has been in 
the family a very great while. Of 
course, I don’t mean this particular 
coat that I am wearing,” he hastened 
to add, as he saw Peter beginning to 
grin. “ I mean this style of coat has 
been in the family a very long time. 
My father was dressed just as I am. 
So was his father and — ” 

“ I know,” interrupted Peter. 
“ You were going to say that so were 
all your grandfathers way back to the 
days when the world was young, and 
Old Mother Nature made the very first 
one of your family. It’s funny to me 
that all the interesting things hap- 
pened such a long time ago. Now 
wasn’t that what you were going to 
say? ” 

Seek-Seek admitted that it was, and 
looked a little disappointed that Peter 
had guessed it. But a second later he 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 177 

felt better when Peter asked him very 
politely but very earnestly for the 
story of how the first Ground Squirrel 
got such a pretty coat. “ There is a 
story. I know there is a story/’ 
declared Peter. “ Won’t you tell it 
to me please, Seek-Seek? ” 

Now Peter didn’t want to hear it 
any more than Seek-Seek wanted to 
tell it, so while Peter squatted down 
comfortably, Seek-Seek sat up very 
straight and began the story. 

“ First of all, you must know that 
Seek-Seek is an old family name which 
has been handed down just as the pat- 
tern of my coat has been. The very 
first of all my great-great-grandfathers 
was called Seek-Seek. When Old 
Mother Nature made Seek-Seek she 
must have had two families in mind at 
one time, the Marmot family and the 
Squirrel family, for she made him a 


178 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

little like each, so that in his looks he 
sort of fitted in between the two. 
Mother Nature told him that he was a 
member of the Squirrel family and set 
him free to find a place for himself in 
the Great World. 

“ Now it didn’t take Grandfather 
Seek-Seek long to find out that though 
he might be a member of the Squirrel 
family, Old Mother Nature had failed 
to furnish him with the right kind of 
claws for climbing trees, as most of 
his cousins did. True, he could climb 
a little, but it was not easy, and he felt 
anything but comfortable off the 
ground. But if those claws were of 
little use for climbing they were splen- 
did tools for digging, just as are the 
claws of the Marmot family. So Old 
Mother Nature must have been think- 
ing of the Marmots when she fashioned 
those claws. 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 179 


“ At first Seek-Seek wandered about 
trying to find a place for himself in the 
Great World. Being a Squirrel, he 
tried to live as did his cousins, Mr. 
Red Squirrel and Mr. Gray Squirrel, 
but on account of those claws he didn’t 
make much of a success of it. Then 
one day he met Mr. Chipmunk. They 
stopped and stared at each other in 
surprise because, you know, their coats 
were so much alike. At that time 
Seek-Seek was wearing plain stripes, 
just as Striped Chipmunk does to this 
day. 

“ ‘ What do you mean by stealing 
my coat? ’ demanded Mr. Chipmunk 
angrily. 

“ 6 1 was just about to ask you the 
same question,’ retorted Seek-Seek. 

“ Mr. Chipmunk had a sharp reply 
right on the tip of his tongue, but he 
checked it just in time. ‘ What’s the 


180 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

use of quarreling over something 
neither of us had anything to do 
with? ’ said he. ‘ It must be that we 
are cousins. Where do you live ? ’ 

“ Seek-Seek explained that he didn’t 
live anywhere in particular but was 
trying to find his place in the Great 
World. He told how he had tried to 
live like the other Squirrels and failed. 
1 1 know! I know all about it,’ inter- 
rupted Mr. Chipmunk. ‘ I’ve been all 
through it. The place for us is on 
the ground or at least close to it. 
Come see how I live.’ 

“ So Seek-Seek went with Mr. Chip- 
munk and saw how he lived among the 
rocks and stones. For a time he tried 
living there too, but he didn’t like the 
rocks and stones much better than he 
did the trees. Besides, all the neigh- 
bors were forever mistaking him for 
Mr. Chipmunk because they looked so 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 181 


much alike, and he didn’t like this. 
One day he wandered out on the Green 
Meadows. It was very lovely out 
there among the grasses and flowers. 
He wandered farther and farther, and 
the farther he wandered the better he 
liked it. By and by he came to the 
home of Yap-Yap the Prairie Dog, who 
is one of the Marmot family, as you 
know. 

“ ‘ A home like that would suit me,’ 
thought Grandfather Seek-Seek wist- 
fully, as he journeyed on. 6 1 wonder 
if I could dig one. I believe I’ll try.’ 

“ So when he found a place to suit 
him he began to dig. There were no 
stones to hurt his feet and dull his 
nails, and he actually enjoyed digging. 
So he dug and dug until he had a won- 
derful underground home. All about 
were plenty of seeds and tender 
grasses to eat, and he was happy. He 


182 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


had found his place in the Great 
World. Then one day along came Old 
Mother Nature. ‘ Hello, Mr. Chip- 
munk,’ she exclaimed, as she caught 
sight of his striped coat, 6 what are 
you doing way out here? ’ 

“ Then she discovered her mistake. 
4 Dear me,’ said she, 1 this will never 
do at all. If I can’t tell my own chil- 
dren apart, how can I expect others to? 
Your coat is altogether too much like 
that of Mr. Chipmunk. I must change 
it. I certainly must change it. ’ 

“ She leaned over and lightly tapped 
Seek-Seek right down the length of the 
broadest brown stripe of his coat. 
Wherever her finger touched a little 
spot of yellow was left. Then she did 
the same thing to each of the other 
brown stripes. When she had finished 
Grandfather Seek-Seek had a coat ex- 
actly like the one I am now wearing, 


WHERE SEEK-SEEK GOT HIS COAT 183 


and his cup of happiness was filled to 
the brim. Prom that day on he never 
was mistaken for Mr. Chipmunk or 
any one else. That’s the story of my 
coat, and now I must get busy collect- 
ing seeds for my storehouse,” con- 
cluded Seek-Seek. “ Come and see me 
again, Peter Rabbit.” 

“ I will,” replied Peter, as he started 
for the dear Old Briar-patch to tell 
Mrs. Peter all about Seek-Seek and his 
pretty coat. 














XIII 

WHERE OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNED TO 
FISH 









































































































































































































xni 


WHERE OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNED TO FISH 

P ETER RABBIT had seen a very 
strange thing. It was strange 
to Peter, anyway. It gave him 
something to think about, and this, I 
am sure you will agree, was a most ex- 
cellent thing, for it kept him out of 
mischief for a while. He had been over 
to the Smiling Pool for a call on J errv 
Muskrat and had just started back for 
the dear Old Briar-patch when he 
chanced to look over in the direction 
of the Big River. Coming straight 
towards him, but high in the air, was 
a big bird, a bird with broad wings. 
Peter didn’t have to look twice to 


188 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

know that it was a member of the 
Hawk family. At first he thought it 
was Eedtail. Then he caught a flash 
of white, and he thought it was White- 
tail the Marsh Hawk, in spite of the 
fact that it didn’t fly like him. Peter 
didn’t stop to think of that. It was 
enough for him that a member of the 
Hawk family was headed that way, 
and he didn’t care a twitch of his 
funny little tail which member it was. 
He felt that the stomach of one was 
quite as undesirable a place for Peter 
Rabbit as the stomach of another, and 
he had no intention of filling any if 
he could help it. 

He remembered that there was an 
old house of Johnny Chuck’s under the 
Big Hickory-tree on the bank of the 
Smiling Pool, and he wasted no time in 
getting there, lipperty-lipperty-lip, as 
fast as he could go. He would stay 


OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNS TO FISH 189 

there until the way was clear to get 
home to the dear Old Briar-patch. As 
soon as he was safe in the old house 
of Johnny Chuck, he turned and poked 
his head out of the doorway. He 
wanted to see if any one would be 
caught. He hoped not, but if any one 
was caught, he wanted to see. You 
know Peter never misses anything if 
he can help it. On came Mr. Hawk, 
and when he was right over the Smil- 
ing Pool, he turned and made a short 
circle high in the air. Then Peter saw 
that he had a white waist-coat and was 
a stranger. 

“ I wonder who he is? ” thought 
Peter, staring very hard. “ He’s 
bigger than either Redtail or White- 
tail. I hope he isn’t going to make his 
home here, because we have trouble 
enough as it is.” 

Suddenly Mr. Hawk paused high up 


190 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

in the air, then closed his wings and 
shot straight down like an arrow. 
Plunge! Peter couldn’t believe his 
own eyes. Mr. Hawk actually had dis- 
appeared in the Smiling Pool! A sec- 
ond later there was a great splashing, 
and out of the water rose Mr. Hawk, 
flapping his great wings heavily, scat- 
tering spray in all directions. Up, up 
he went, and then Peter saw that in 
his great claws was a fish. Peter 
watched him fly away with the fish, 
and when he felt that it was quite safe 
to do so, he came out. Over on the 
end of an old log among the bulrushes 
sat Jerry Muskrat just where Peter 
had left him. It was very plain that 
Jerry hadn’t been the least bit fright- 
ened by Mr. Hawk. Peter couldn’t 
understand it. His eyes fairly popped 
out of his head with excitement and 
curiosity. 


OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNS TO FISH 191 

“ Who was that? ” he asked eagerly. 

“ That? Why, that was Plunger the 
Osprey, though some people call him 
Fish Hawk,” replied Jerry. “ I 
thought everybody knew him. Why 
did you run away, Peter? He wouldn’t 
hurt you.” 

“ Huh! I wouldn’t trust any 
Hawk! ” snapped Peter. 

“ Which goes to show how little you 
know! ” retorted Jerry Muskrat. 
“ Plunger never bothers anybody but 
the fish, but he surely is a terror to 
them. Old Mother Nature knew what 
she was doing when she made fisher- 
men out of that family, didn’t she? ” 

“ She certainly did, though I’ve 
never heard how she came to do it. 
How did it happen, Jerry? ” Peter 
was doing some fishing himself. He 
was fishing for a story. 

Jerry Muskrat grinned. “ Think 


192 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


you’ll sleep any better if I tell you? ” 
be inquired. 

Peter grinned back and nodded. So 
Jerry Muskrat told him this story: 

“ Way back in the days when the 
world was young, and the great-great- 
ever-so-great-grandfathers of all the 
little people of the Green Meadows 
and the Green Forest of today were be- 
ing started out in life by Old Mother 
Nature, they had everything to learn. 
The Great World was a new place, and 
they were new in it. No one knew 
exactly his place or what was expected 
of him, and Old Mother Nature was 
too busy to be bothered with questions. 
She expected each one to work out for 
himself a way in which to make him- 
self useful, or at least to take care of 
himself, without bothering her. If 
he couldn’t do that, she didn’t want 
him around at all, and the sooner some- 


OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNS TO FISH 193 


thing happened to him the better. So 
the Great World began to be peopled 
with birds and animals. 

“ It didn’t take them long to learn 
that it wouldn’t be possible for all to 
live if they all ate the same kind of 
food. So some learned to eat one thing 
and some another, and all went happily 
until there came a time when all food 
was scarce, and more stomachs were 
empty than full. You’ve heard about 
that hard time and sad time? ” 

Peter nodded, and Jerry took a 
drink of water and then went on with 
his tale. 

“ Of course, that was really a very 
dreadful time, for it was then that 
the strong began to hunt the weak, and 
fear was bom into the world. And 
yet I guess it wasn’t wholly bad. 
Nothing is, so far as I can find out. 
Anyway, because of that hard time, 


194 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


everybody, became a little smarter than 
before. You know an empty stomach 
sharpens wit, and fear, puts a fine edge 
on it. Now Mr. Osprey, who was one 
of the biggest of the cousins of old 
King Eagle, couldn’t get over a feeling 
of meanness whenever he hunted those 
smaller than himself. One day he 
caught little Mr. Sparrow when little 
Mr. Sparrow was so busy that he for- 
got to watch out. 

“ ‘ I’m powerful sorry, Mr. Sparrow,’ 
apologized Mr. Osprey, ‘ but there’s 
an emptiness just about your size in 
my stomach, and it won’t give me any 
peace of mind until it’s filled. I hate 
to make a neighbor uncomfortable, and 
I’ll be just as quick and accommodat- 
ing about this little matter as I can. 
If you’ll just shut your eyes, you won’t 
see anything unpleasant, and I won’t 
be a minute in getting that peace of 


OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNS TO FISH 195 


mind I’ve been without so long. I 
just must have it, or I wouldn’t bother 
you at all. I hope you won’t hold it 
against me, Mr. Sparrow.’ 

“ Mr. Osprey was so nice and polite 
about it that little Mr. Sparrow perked 
up a little and started his wits working. 
He tried to be just as nice and polite 
as Mr. Osprey. ‘ I know just how you 
feel, Mr. Osprey,’ said he, in a trem- 
bling voice, ‘ and during these hard 
times I’ve had that same ailment of 
the mind because of lonesomeness of 
the stomach, which is troubling you. 
So long as that emptiness is filled, I 
don’t suppose it matters to you if I 
shouldn’t happen to fill it.’ 

“ 6 Not at all,’ replied Mr. Osprey. 

“ 6 Mr. Osprey,’ said little Mr. Spar- 
row very earnestly, 6 if I were in your 
place, I never would go hungry. No, 
Sir, I never would go hungry. And I 


196 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

certainly never, never would trouble 
any of my neighbors who wear feath- 
ers. I certainly would feel most happy 
if Old Mother Nature had given me 
what she has given you. Indeed I 
would. ’ 

“ Mr. Osprey looked down at little 
Mr. Sparrow and blinked at him in a 
puzzled way. ‘ What has Old Mother 
Nature given me that you would be 
happy to have? ’ he asked. 

“ ‘ Fishhooks! ’ replied little Mr. 
Sparrow, pointing to Mr. Osprey’s 
great claws, ‘ the finest fishhooks in 
the world. You don’t hear Billy Mink 
or Little Joe Otter or Mr. Heron com- 
plaining about hard times. Why? Be- 
cause they don’t know what hard times 
are. There are plenty of fish to be 
caught, and when they are hungry 
they go fishing. Fish are very filling 
and satisfying, I’ve heard say. When 


OLD MR. OSPREY LEARNS TO FISH 197 


I flew across the Smiling Pool a little 
while ago, I saw a fat fish taking a 
sun-bath right close to the top of the 
water. Seemed like he was just wait- 
ing for some one with hooks to come 
along and snatch him right out of the 
water. ’ 

“ ‘ Where ’d you say that fish was? 9 
asked Mr. Osprey. 

“ ‘ If you’ll let me go, I’ll show you,’ 
replied little Mr. Sparrow. 

“ So Mr. Osprey let little Mr. Spar- 
row go, but he followed him right close. 
Mr. Sparrow led the way straight to 
the Smiling Pool. Sure enough, there 
was the big fish taking a sun-bath. 
Mr. Osprey hardly wet his feet putting 
those big hooks into that fish. He flew 
away with it, and presently he was rid 
of that emptiness in his stomach and 
had back his peace of mind. After 
that, whenever he was hungry, he went 


198 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


fishing instead of hunting the birds and 
the animals. By practice he learned 
how to use those big fishhooks of his 
and became one of the smartest of all 
fishermen. He and little Mr. Sparrow 
became great friends, in fact, such 
friends that when Mr. Osprey built a 
great nest, little Mr. Sparrow built his 
right in the side of it, and there he was 
perfectly safe from others who might 
be hunting him. And it’s been just 
that way ever since. If you wore 
scales instead of fur, and lived in the 
water instead of on the land, Peter 
Rabbit, you would have reason to fear 
Plunger the Osprey, but as it is, you 
are safer when he is about than when 
he isn’t. There comes old Redtail the 
Hawk. You’d better get out of sight, 
Peter.” 

Peter did. 


XIV 


WHERE OLD MR. BOB-CAT LEFT HIS 

HONOR 


XIV 


WHERE OLD MR. BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 

O P all those who are forever try- 
ing to catch Peter Rabbit, he 
fears none more than Yowler 
the Bob-cat. And from that fear has 
grown hate. You will find it true all 
through life that hate often springs 
from great fear. Peter isn’t much 
given to hate, but he does hate Yowler 
the Bob-cat. It is partly because of 
his fear of Yowler, but it is still more 
because he feels that Yowler is not 
fair in his hunting. He has no honor. 
There are many others whom Peter 
fears, — Reddy Pox, Old Man Coyote, 
Hooty the Owl, — and with very good 


202 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


reason. But Peter considers that these 
hunt him fairly. He knows when and 
where to be on the watch for them. 

But with Yowler it is altogether dif- 
ferent. Yowler hides beside one of 
Peter’s favorite little paths, and there 
he waits patiently for unsuspecting 
Peter to come along. He waits and 
watches much as Black Pussy, who is 
a cousin of Yowler, waits and watches 
at a mousehole. Peter feels that it 
doesn’t give him a chance, and every- 
body is entitled to at least a chance to 
live. 

“ I hate him! hate him! hate him! ” 
exclaimed Peter fiercely, as he crawled 
under the very middle of a great pile 
of brush after the narrowest of narrow 
escapes. He had been hopping along 
one of his favorite little paths without 
a thought of danger. Presently he 
came to a little branch path. There he 


WHERE BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 203 


hesitated. He had intended to keep 
on along the main path, but suddenly 
he had a feeling that it would be better 
to take the branch path. He knew no 
reason why he shouldn’t keep on as he 
had planned. It was just a feeling 
that it would be better to take the 
other path, a feeling without any real 
reason. So he hesitated and finally 
turned down the little branch path. 
As he did so he caught a glimpse of a 
brown form moving stealthily from 
behind a log farther up the main little 
path. It was moving swiftly in the 
direction of the little branch path. 
That glimpse was enough for Peter. 
That stealthy form could be but one 
person — Yowler the Bob-cat. He 
turned and darted back the way he had 
come and then off to one side to the 
great pile of brush under which he had 
crawled. 


204 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ Who is it you hate? ” asked a 
voice. 

For just a second Peter was startled, 
then he recognized the voice of Mrs. 
Grouse, one of his very best friends. 
“ Yowler the Bob-cat,” said he as 
fiercely as before. 

“ I don’t love him myself,” replied 
Mys. Grouse. “ I suspected that he 
was somewhere about, and that is why 
I am here. Did you see him? ” 

“•Yes,” said Peter, “ I saw him. He 
was hiding beside my favorite little 
path, and it is a wonder I didn’t 
hop straight into his jaws. That fel- 
low doesn’t hunt fairly. He doesn’t 
give us a chance. He hasn’t any 
honor.” 

“ Honor! ” exclaimed Mrs. Grouse. 
“ Honor! Of course he hasn’t any 
honor. There hasn’t been any honor 
in Yowler ’s family since old Mr. 


WHERE BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 205 

Bob-cat, the first of all the Bob-cats, 
left his honor in Turkey Wood, way 
back in the days when the world was 
young, and failed to get it again. 
Honor! Of course Yowler hasn’t any. 
What could you expect? ” 

At once Peter was all ears. “ I’ve 
never heard about that,” said he. 
“ Tell me about it, Mrs. Grouse. 
We’ve got to stay right where we are 
for a long time to make sure that 
Yowler has given us up and gone away, 
so you will have plenty of time to tell 
me the story. Where was Turkey 
Wood, and how did old Mr. Bob-cat 
happen to leave his honor there? ” 

“ He didn’t happen to; he did it de- 
liberately,” replied Mrs. Grouse. 
“ You see, it was like this: In the be- 
ginning of things, when Old Mother 
Nature made the first little people and 
the first big people of the Green Forest 


206 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


and the Green Meadows, she was too 
busy to watch over them all the time, 
so for a while she put them on their 
honor not to harm one another or in- 
terfere with one another in any way, 
for she wanted them to live in peace 
and happiness and raise families to 
people the Great World. 

“ Now it chanced that Mr. and Mrs. 
Gobbler, the first of the Turkey family, 
chose a certain little grove of trees in 
which to make their home, and it be- 
came known as Turkey Wood. There, 
in course of time, Mrs. Turkey made 
her nest on the ground, well hidden 
among some bushes, and in it laid 
twelve big eggs. It was the day on 
which she laid the twelfth big egg that 
old Mr. Bob-cat, who, of course, wasn’t 
old then, took it into his head to prowl 
about in Turkey Wood. Already Mr. 
Bob-cat had begun to form a sneaky 


WHERE BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 207 


habit of stealth. He was very fond of 
watching his neighbors to find out 
what they were about, and it was this 
fondness of minding the business of 
other people instead of his own that 
was making him sneaky and stealthy, 
for of course he didn’t want any one 
to know what he was doing. 

“ It happened that as he stole into 
Turkey Wood, Mrs. Gobbler left her 
nest to get a bite to eat. Mr. Bob-cat 
saw her, but she didn’t see him. He 
crouched flat until she was out of sight. 

“ 6 She seemed mighty careful about 
how she slipped out of those bushes,’ 
thought Mr. Bob-cat. ‘ She acted as if 
she didn’t want to be seen. I wonder 
why. I wonder if she has a secret 
hidden in those bushes. I suppose the 
way to find out is to look.’ 

“ First making sure that no one saw 
him, Mr. Bob-cat crept in his sneaky 


208 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


way into the bushes, and it didn’t take 
him long to find that nest with the 
twelve big eggs. He didn’t know what 
they were, for they were the first eggs 
he had ever seen. He stared at them 
and wondered if they were good to eat. 
He glanced this way and that way to 
be sure that no one was watching him. 

“ 6 Don’t touch them,’ warned some- 
thing inside of him. ‘ These belong to 
Mrs. Gobbler, and Old Mother Nature 
has put you on your honor not to in- 
terfere with others or their affairs.’ 

“ ‘ It won’t do any harm just to 
touch them and see what they are like,’ 
said another little tempting voice in- 
side of him. 

“ * Remember your honor,’ warned 
the first little voice. 

“ ‘ Bother my honor! I’m not going 
to do any harm,’ muttered Mr. Bob- 
cat, and picked up one of the eggs in 


WHERE BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 209 


his mouth. He tried it with his teeth 
to see if it was hard, and of course 
he put his teeth right through the shell. 
He started to put it back in a hurry, 
but just then he noticed a good taste 
in his mouth. The inside of that egg 
was good to eat, very good indeed! 

“ 4 One won’t be missed,’ thought 
Mr. Bob-cat, and then, fearing that 
Mrs. Gobbler would return, he bounded 
away, taking the egg with him. 

“ When Mrs. Gobbler returned, she 
did miss that egg. She looked all 
about for it, but there was nothing to 
show what had become of it. With a 
troubled mind she began to sit on her 
eggs. She was so worried that she 
didn’t leave them until she simply had 
to get something to eat. 

“ Meanwhile Mr. Bob-cat had eaten 
that egg, and it had tasted so good 
that he could think of nothing but how 


210 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


he could get another. So at the first 
opportunity he sneaked back to 
Turkey Wood, and without making a 
sound crept in among the bushes until 
he could see Mrs. Gobbler sitting on 
her eggs. There he lay and watched 
and watched until Mrs. Gobbler left 
to get something to eat. No sooner 
was she out of sight than Mr. Bob-cat 
stole to the nest. 

“ i Remember your honor,’ warned 
the little voice inside. 

“ ‘ Bother honor. I’d rather have an 
egg,’ muttered Mr. Bob-cat, and pulled 
one out of the nest. He bit a hole in 
one end and sucked out the contents. 
It was so good he took another. This 
led to a third, and finally Mr. Bob-cat 
had sucked every one of those eggs. 
Then silently he sneaked away away 
from Turkey Wood to a distant part 
of the Green Forest. Behind him in 


WHERE BOB-CAT LEFT HIS HONOR 211 


Turkey Wood he left a nestful of 
empty shells and his honor. 

“ 4 Nobody knows who did it, and 
nobody ever will find out,’ thought Mr. 
Bob-cat, but all the time he knew that 
he had left his honor behind, and this 
made him more sneaky than ever. He 
never would meet any one face to face. 
You know that is something that one 
who has lost his honor never can do. 
It wasn’t long before all his neighbors 
knew that he was without honor, and 
so would have nothing to do with him. 
They shunned him. He grew to be 
more and more of a sneak. And all the 
time he believed that no one knew 
what he had done or where he had left 
his honor. 

“ But Old Mother Nature knew. Of 
course Mrs. Gobbler told her what had 
happened to her eggs. Old Mother 
Nature told her to make a new nest 


212 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


and hide it more carefully than before, 
which Mrs. Gobbler did and hatched 
out ten fine young Gobblers. Mean- 
while Old Mother Nature went about 
her business, but all the time she was 
watching to see who would fail to look 
her straight in the face. The first 
time she met Mr. Bob-cat he tried to 
slip past unseen. When Old Mother 
Nature stepped in front of him, he 
couldn’t look her in the face, try as he 
would. 

“ 6 Ah-ha! ’ said she. 1 You are the 
one who left his honor in Turkey Wood. 
From this time forth you shall be an 
outcast, friendless and alone, hated by 
every one.’ 

“ And so it was, and has been ever 
since. And so it is with Yowler today. 
You said truly, Peter, that he hasn’t 
any honor. Isn’t it dreadful? ” 

And Peter agreed that it is. 


XY 

WHERE DIPPY THE LOON GOT THE 
NAME OF BEING CRAZY 


XV 


WHERE DIPPY THE LOON GOT THE NAME OF 
BEING CRAZY 

A S you all know, Peter Rabbit is 
out and about at a time when 
most folks are snugly tucked 
in bed. The fact is, Peter is very 
fond of roaming around at night. He 
says he feels safer then in spite of the 
fact that some of his smartest enemies 
are also out and about, among them 
Hooty the Owl and Reddy Pox and 
Old Man Coyote. The two latter also 
hunt by day when the fancy takes 
them or they have been so unsuccess- 
ful at night that their stomachs won’t 
give them any peace, and Peter is sure 
that though they can see very well at 


216 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


night, they can see still better in the 
light of day. Anyway, that is one of 
the reasons he gives for his own liking 
for roaming after jolly, round, red 
Mr. Sun has gone to bed behind the 
Purple Hills. 

Now it happened one moonlight 
night that Peter had ventured way 
over almost to the Big River. He had 
heard Hooty the Owl’s fierce hunting 
call far off in the Green Forest. He 
had heard Reddy Fox barking up in 
the Old Pasture. So Peter felt quite 
safe. He felt so safe that he had 
almost forgotten that there could be 
such a thing as fear. And then, from 
the direction of the Big River, there 
came such a sound as Peter never had 
heard before. It was a sound that 
made his heart seem to quite stop 
beating for an instant. It was a sound 
that sent cold chills racing and chas- 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF CRAZY 217 

ing all over him. It was a sound that 
made him wish with all his might that 
he was that instant right in the heart 
of the dear Old Briar-patch instead of 
way over there near the bank of the 
Big River. 

He didn’t waste much time getting 
back to the dear Old Briar-patch, once 
he was sure his heart hadn’t really 
stopped beating. The way he went 
across the Green Meadows, lipperty- 
lipperty-lip, lipperty-lipperty-lip, was 
positive proof that in spite of his 
fright his heart was quite all right. 
He didn’t run a little way, stop, run a 
little farther and stop again, as is his 
usual way. He kept lipperty-lipperty- 
lipping without a single stop until he 
reached the edge of the dear Old Briar- 
patch and once more felt really safe. 
Two or three times he had felt that he 
must stop to get his breath, but each 


218 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


time that sound, that dreadful sound, 
had seemed to be following right at 
his heels, and he had suddenly dis- 
covered that he didn’t need to stop 
after all. 

But having reached the dear Old 
Briar-patch Peter stopped and panted 
for breath while he anxiously watched 
for the appearance of some unknown 
enemy following him. It was then 
that he realized that that sound came 
from the Big River, and that whoever 
made it had not left the Big River at 
all. It made Peter feel a wee bit 
foolish as he thought how he had been 
sure that there was danger right at his 
very heels all the way home, when all 
the time there hadn’t been any danger 
at all. 

Peter sat there and listened, and 
despite the fact that he now felt abso- 
lutely safe, the cold chills ran over 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF GRAZY 219 


him every time he heard it. It was a 
voice; Peter was sure of that. It was 
a voice, but such a voice as Peter never 
in his life had heard before. It was 
quite as bad if not worse than the 
voice of Old Man Coyote. In a way 
it reminded him of Old Man Coyote’s 
voice, but while Old Man Coyote’s 
voice sounded like many voices in one, 
it was not so fearsome as this voice, 
for this voice sounded like a human 
voice, yet wasn’t. Something inside 
Peter told him that it wasn’t a human 
voice, in spite of its sounding so. 

The next morning Peter ran over to 
the Smiling Pool to ask Grandfather 
Frog if he had any idea who could have 
such a voice as that. When he tried to 
tell Grandfather Frog what that voice 
was like, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t 
describe it. 

“ It was the lonesomest and craziest 


220 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


sound I’ve ever heard,” declared 
Peter, “ and that is all I can tell you. 
It was crazier than the voice of Old 
Man Coyote.” 

“ That is all you need tell me,” 
chuckled Grandfather Frog. “ That 
was the voice of Dippy the Loon. 
And let me tell you something, Peter: 
you are not the first one to think his 
voice has a crazy sound. Oh, my, no! 
No, indeed! Why, a lot of people 
think Dippy is crazy, and when any 
one does queer things they say of him 
that he is 4 crazy as a Loon.’ 

“ But is he crazy? ” asked Peter. 

“ Chug-a-rum! ” exclaimed Grand- 
father Frog. “ Chug-a-rum! Not half 
so crazy as you are, Peter, coming over 
here to the Smiling Pool in broad day- 
light. He likes to be thought crazy, 
just as his great-great-ever-so-great- 
grandfather did before him, that’s all. 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF CRAZY 221 

Everybody thought his great-great- 
ever-so-great-grandfather was crazy, 
and it paid Mr. Loon to have them 
think so. So he did his best to make 
them keep thinking so.” 

“ Tell me about it. Do please tell 
me about it, Grandfather Frog,” 
begged Peter. “ Please, please, 
please.” 

Now how could Grandfather Frog 
resist that? He couldn’t. He didn’t 
even try to. He just cleared his throat 
once or twice and began. 

“ Once on a time, long, long ago, 
lived the very first of all the Loons, 
the ever - and - ever - and - ever - so - great - 
grandfather of Dippy, whose voice 
frightened you so last night.” 

“ How did you know it frightened 
me? ” exclaimed Peter, for he had 
taken care not to tell Grandfather 
Frog anything about that. 


222 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Grandfather Frog chuckled and went 
right on with his story. “ Right from 
the beginning Mr. Loon was a mighty 
independent fellow. It didn’t take 
him long to find out that Old Mother 
Nature had too much to do to waste 
any time on those who didn’t try to 
take care of themselves, and that those 
would live longest who were smartest 
and most independent. He had sharp 
eyes, had old Mr. Loon, just as Dippy 
has today, and he used them to good 
account. He saw at once that with so 
many birds and animals living on the 
land it was likely to get crowded after 
a while, and that when such became 
the case, it was going to be mighty 
hard work for some to get a living. 
So Mr. Loon went to Mother Nature 
and told her that if she had i&pbjec- 
tions he would like a pair of swimming 
feet and would live on the water. 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF CRAZY 223 

“ Now Old Mother Nature had just 
fitted out Mr. Duck with a pair of 
webbed feet that he might swim, so she 
was quite prepared to fit Mr. Loon out 
in like manner. 

“ 1 1 suppose,’ said she, * that you 
want a bill like Mr. Duck’s.’ 

“ Mr. Loon shook his head. ‘ Thank 
you,’ said he, 6 but I would prefer a 
sharp bill to a broad one.’ 

“ c How is that? ’ exclaimed Mother 
Nature. ‘ Mr. Duck has been delighted 
with his bill ever since I gave it to 
him.’ 

“ ‘ And with good reason,’ replied 
Mr. Loon. ‘ Did I propose to live as 
Mr. Duck lives, I should want a bill 
just like his, but I find that fish are 
more to my liking. Also I have noticed 
that there are fewer who eat fish.’ 

“ So Mother Nature gave him the 
kind of bill he wanted, and Mr. Loon 


224 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


went about his business. He managed 
to get fish enough to keep from going 
hungry, but he found that the only 
way he could do it was to sit perfectly 
still until a fish swam within reach and 
then strike swiftly. In fact, his fish- 
ing was much like that of Mr. Heron, 
save that the latter stood instead of 
sitting. Success was chiefly the result 
of luck and patience. 

“ Now this sort of thing was not at 
all to the liking of Mr. Loon. He 
gloried in his strength and he wanted 
to hunt for his fish and catch them in 
fair chase instead of waiting for them 
to unsuspectingly swim within reach. 
He practised and practised swimming 
and diving, but he soon made up his 
mind that he never would be able to 
move through the water fast enough to 
catch a fish unless there was some 
change. He watched the fish swim, 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF CRAZY 225 


and he saw that the power which drove 
them through the water came from 
their tails. Mr. Loon grew very 
thoughtful. 

“ The next time Mother Nature 
came around to see how everybody 
was getting on, to hear complaints, and 
to grant such requests as seemed wise, 
Mr. Loon was on hand. ‘ If you 
please,’ said he when his turn came, 
i I would like my legs moved back to 
the lower end of my body.’ 

“ Mother Nature was surprised. 
She looked it. ‘ But you’ll hardly be 
able to walk at all with your legs 
there! ’ she exclaimed. 

“ Mr. Loon said that he knew that, 
and that he didn’t want to walk. He 
would far rather spend all his time 
on the water. So Mother Nature 
granted his request. Mr. Loon 
thanked her and started for the water. 


226 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


He couldn’t keep his balance. He 
simply flopped along, while all his 
neighbors, who had heard his queer re- 
quest, jeered at him and called him 
crazy. He just didn’t pay any atten- 
tion, but flopped along until he reached 
the water. Then he swam away 
swiftly. When he was quite by him- 
self with none to see, he dived, and as 
he had hoped, he found that he could 
drive himself through the water at 
great speed. He practised a while and 
then he went fishing. When he caught 
his first fish in a fair chase, he was so 
delighted that he shrieked and shouted 
and laughed in the wildest fashion far 
into the night. And those who had 
heard his strange request and thought 
him crazy were sure of it, as they lis- 
tened to his wild laughter. 

“ So little by little it was spread 
about among all the other people that 


WHERE DIPPY GETS NAME OF CRAZY 227 


Mr. Loon was crazy, and he was left 
much to himself, which was just what 
he desired. He was quick to note that 
the sound of his voice sent shivers over 
some of his neighbors, and so he would 
shriek and laugh just to drive them 
away. It pleased him to have them 
think him crazy, and he kept it up. 

“ So it is with Hippy today, and 
last night you ran from the voice of a 
crazy Loon who isn’t crazy at all, but 
likes to make people think he is,” 
concluded Grandfather Frog. 




































































































































































a, 

v, 


































































* 


























* 


































> 

























































XYI 

WHERE BIG-HORN GOT HIS CURVED 
HORNS 












XVI 


WHERE BIG-HORN GOT HIS CURVED HORNS 

I T was Digger the Badger who told 
Peter Rabbit the story of the 
great Ram who was the first of 
all the wild Sheep who live on the tops 
of the mountains bounding the great 
plains of the Far West on which Dig- 
ger was bom. It happened that 
Farmer Brown’s flock of Sheep were 
grazing in the Old Pasture in plain 
sight of Digger as he sat on his door- 
step watching his shadow grow longer. 
At the head of the flock was a Ram 
whose horns curved around in almost 
a circle, and whom Peter Rabbit often 
had admired. 


232 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


Peter happened along as Digger sat 
there on his doorstep watching his 
shadow grow longer, so he sat down 
at a safe and respectful distance and 
helped Digger watch his shadow grow 
longer. Peter delights in doing things 
like this, because it isn’t hard work at 
all. It is only when there is real work 
concerned that Peter loses interest. 
A lot of people are just like Peter in 
this respect. 

Peter gazed over at the Old Pasture 
and he, too, saw Farmer Brown’s 
Sheep and the big Ram with the curv- 
ing horns at his head. For a long time 
Peter had greatly admired those horns, 
though he never had told any one so. 
He had admired those horns because 
they were different from any other 
horns Peter ever had seen. They 
looked perfectly useless for fighting 
because they curved so that the pointa 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 233 


never could be made to hurt any one, 
but just the same Peter admired them. 
Now as he watched he spoke aloud, 
without thinking what he was doing. 

“ I wish I had a pair of horns like 
those/’ said he wistfully. 

Digger the Badger stopped watching 
his shadow, and turned to stare at 
Peter. Then he laughed until finally 
he choked. Peter looked at him in 
surprise. 

“ What’s the matter with you, Mr. 
Badger? ” asked he. “ What is there 
to laugh at? ” 

“ Only you, Peter. Only you,” re- 
plied Digger faintly, for he had 
laughed so hard that he had almost lost 
his voice. “ I am afraid you would 
find a pair of horns like those rather 
heavy, Peter, rather heavy.” 

Peter grinned. “ Of course I didn’t 
really mean that,” said he. “ Of 


234 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

course not. I was just thinking how 
nice it would be to have such fine horns, 
if one were big enough to have horns. 
I don’t believe there are any other such 
horns in all the Great World.” 

“ And that shows how little you 
know about the Great World, Peter,” 
retorted Digger the Badger. 

“ Did you ever see such horns be- 
fore? ” demanded Peter. 

“ No, I never did,” confessed Dig- 
ger, “ but I’ve heard my grandfather 
tell of Sheep that live on the tops of 
the great mountains as free as Light- 
foot the Deer or any other of the Green 
Forest people, and with horns so large 
that they, the Sheep, are called Big- 
Horns. From what I have heard my 
grandfather say, those horns over 
there of Mr. Barn’s are nothing to brag 
about. No, Sir, they are nothing to 
brag about. One of those wild, free 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 235 

cousins of Mr. Ram over there would 
laugh at those horns. But they are 
funny horns, and they’ve been like that 
always since the days of the first great 
Ram, the great-great-ever-so-great- 
grandfather of all the Sheep, so my 
grandfather told me. It was way back 
in those long-ago days that they be- 
came curved and quite useless for 
fighting, and all because of old Big- 
Horn going about with a chip on his 
shoulder.” 

Peter pricked up his ears. “ That 
was a funny thing for Big-Horn to be 
doing,” said he. “ What under the sun 
did he have a chip on his shoulder 
for? And what harm was there in 
that, even if he did? ” 

Once more Digger began to laugh. 
“ Peter,” said he, “ you certainly are 
the funniest fellow I know. Of course 
old Big-Horn didn’t really have a chip 


236 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

on his shoulder. That is just a saying, 
Peter, just a saying. When any one 
goes about looking for trouble and 
ready to quarrel at the least pretext, 
he is said to be carrying a chip on his 
shoulder and daring anj^body to knock 
it off.” 

“ Oh! ” said Peter. 

“ And so,” continued Digger, “ Big- 
Horn didn’t have anything to do with 
a really, truly chip, but just went about 
always trying to get somebody to fight 
with him. It wasn’t that Big-Horn was 
ugly. He wasn’t. You see Old Mother 
Nature had given him great strength. 
Yes, Sir, for his size Big-Horn was 
very strong, and in that strength he 
took great pride. And Mother Nature 
had given him a pair of very large and 
strong horns with which to defend him- 
self if there should be need. Those 
horns were almost straight, and with 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 237 


Big-Horn’s great strength behind 
them, they were truly dangerous 
weapons. He didn’t think of that. 
No, Sir, he didn’t think of that. He 
was just brimming full of life, and he 
dearly loved to try his strength against 
the strength of others. It got so that 
the instant he saw anybody, down 
would go his head and at them he 
would go full tilt. 

“ It was great fun — for him. 
Sometimes he got the worst of it, as 
when Old King Bear stepped aside at 
the very last instant and hit him such 
a clip with his great paw that Big- 
Horn was sent rolling over and over 
and lost his breath for a few minutes. 
But usually it was the other who got 
the worst of it, for those great, sharp- 
pointed horns of Big-Horn’s tore and 
hurt. Indeed, even when he tried to be 
gentle with those smaller than him- 


238 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


self he was forever hurting some one. 

“ Finally some of his neighbors 
wished to go to Old Mother Nature and 
complain about Big-Horn, but others 
were against this plan because they 
knew that Old Mother Nature was 
quite loaded down with cares and 
worries as it was. So instead they 
called a meeting to which everybody 
except Big-Horn was invited. If Big- 
Horn could have heard all that was 
said about him, his ears surely would 
have burned. Every one was of the 
opinion that something must be done, 
but just what no one could suggest. 
At last, just when it seemed that the 
meeting would break up without any- 
thing being done, Old Man Coyote 
stepped forward. Now Old Man Co- 
yote already was known as a very 
clever fellow, more clever even than 
Mr. Fox, though it would never have 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 239 

done to say so where it would get back 
to the ears of Mr. Fox. 

“ ‘ Friends and neighbors,’ said Old 
Man Coyote, ‘ it seems to me a very 
simple matter to teach Neighbor Big- 
Horn a lesson that he will not soon 
forget. Being rather bashful, I haven’t 
liked to suggest it before, because I 
thought surely some one else would do 
it. I suggest that some one be selected 
to fight Big-Horn, and when that one 
can fight no longer, some one else be 
selected to fight him, and so on until 
he gets tired, and some one can whip 
him. Then I think he will have had 
enough of fighting.’ 

“ Up spoke Mr. Fox and he winked 
at his neighbor on the right and he 
winked at his neighbor on the left. 

‘ That is a very good idea of Neighbor 
Coyote’s,’ said he, ‘ a very good idea 
indeed, and I suggest that Mr. Coyote 


240 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


be selected for the honor of being the 
first one to fight Big-Horn.’ Mr. Fox 
grinned in a sly way, and everybody 
else grinned, for everybody knew that 
Old Man Coyote never was known to 
fight when there was a chance to run 
away. So with one accord everybody 
agreed with Mr. Fox, and Old Man 
Coyote was selected as the first one 
to face Big-Horn. To everybody’s 
surprise, Old Man Coyote made no ob- 
jections. Instead he expressed himself 
as highly honored, and said that he 
hoped to do so well that there would 
be no need for others to fight Big- 
Horn. So it was arranged that Big- 
Horn should be invited to fight Old 
Man Coyote the very next day. 

“ You may be sure that everybody 
was on hand the next day to see that 
fight. No one expected Old Man 
Coyote to appear. But he did. Yes, 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 241 


Sir, he did. He was right on hand at 
the appointed time. Big-Horn hadn’t 
been told whom he was to fight, and 
when he found that it was Old Man 
Coyote, he was disappointed. You see, 
there was no anger in Big-Horn’s fight- 
ing; he fought just for the love of 
using his great strength and big horns. 
Fighting was fun to him, and he 
wanted some one who would stand up 
to him. As soon as it was explained 
to him that when he had disposed of 
Old Man Coyote there would be some 
one else for him to fight (Mr. Deer 
had offered to be the next), he felt 
better. Mr. Deer had horns and was 
somewhere near his size. 

“ Old Man Coyote slipped around 
until he had his back to a great rock. 
6 I’m ready any time,’ said he. 

“ Big-Horn, who had been stamping 
with impatience, lowered his head so 


242 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 

that his horns pointed straight at Old 
Man Coyote. He grinned as he did it, 
for he saw that with that great rock 
behind him, Old Man Coyote would 
have no chance to run away as he 
always had done in the past. Every- 
body else saw the same thing, and won- 
dered what could have happened to 
make Old Man Coyote so stupid as to 
do such a thing as that, he who always 
had been accounted so clever. But 
they had hardly time to think of this, 
for with a snort Big-Horn bounded 
forward. All the others held their 
breath as they saw those great horns 
driving straight at Old Man Coyote, 
who was crouched with his back to the 
great rock. Then everybody closed 
their eyes for a second, for nobody 
wanted to see Old Man Coyote killed, 
and everybody knew that that was 
what was going to happen. 


BIG-HORN GETS CURVED HORNS 243 

“ Then there was a crash, and every- 
body’s eyes flew open. There lay Big- 
Horn on the ground, looking mighty 
puzzled, as if he wasn’t quite sure 
what had happened. And there sat 
Old Man Coyote, grinning at him! 1 
They were still staring at Old Man 
Coyote as if they couldn’t believe their 
own eyes when some one cried, ‘ Look 
at the horns of Big-Horn! ’ 

“ Instead of being long and straight, 
those great horns were curved over 
and round into almost a circle, and 
there was no longer danger from their 
sharp points. What had happened? 
Why, at just the right instant Old Man 
Coyote had leaped over Big-Horn, and 
Big-Horn had butted into that great 
rock with all his might. He had hit 
so hard, biff! bang! that he had bent 
his horns, just as crafty, clever Old 
Man Coyote had hoped he would. 


244 MOTHER WEST WIND WHERE STORIES 


“ When Old Mother Nature heard 
of the affair and saw those bent horns, 
she chuckled at the cleverness of Old 
Man Coyote and decided to leave those 
horns just as they were for the safety 
of Big-Horn ’s neighbors. And so they 
remained as long as Big-Horn lived, 
and just so have been the horns in his 
family from that day to this,” con- 
cluded Digger, and once more began 
to watch his shadow grow longer. 


THE END 


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BURGESS TRADE QUADDIES MARK 


OLD MOTHER WEST WIND 
SERIES 

By Thornton W. Burgess 


I. Old Mother West Wind. 

II. Mother West Wind’s Children. 

III. Mother West Wind’s Animal Friends. 

IV. Mother West Wind’s Neighbors. 

V. Mother West Wind “Why” Stories. 

VI. Mother West Wind “How” Stories. 

VII. Mother West Wind “When” Stories. 
Illustrated by George Kerr and Harrison Cady. 
16mo. Each, $ 1.00 net. 


Of a quality to be recommended for bed-time reading. — 
A. L. A. Booklet. 

Amusing, well-written, well-illustrated animal stories for 
little human animals. — St. Louis Globe-Democrat. 

“Mother West Wind’s Children” is brimming over with 
interesting things about Mother Nature’s little ones. A more 
charming tale to be read to the small folks when the sleepy 
hour comes would be hard to find . — Chicago Tribune. 

Mr. Burgess’ ability to combine a quality of whimsical 
delightfulness with much that is really informative about 
animal life has endeared him to his little readers. — Continent , 
Chicago. 


LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., Publishers, BOSTON 


BURGESS I5A25 QUADDIES mass 


BEDTIME STORY-BOOKS 

By Thornton W. Burgess 
Author of “Old Mother West Wind Series/’ etc. 

1. The Adventures of Reddy Fox 

2. The Adventures of Johnny Chuck 

3. The Adventures of Peter Cottontail 

4. The Adventures of Unc’ Billy Possum 

5. The Adventures of Mr. Mocker 

6. The Adventures of Jerry Muskrat 

7. The Adventures of Danny Meadow Mouse 

8. The Adventures of Grandfather Frog 

9. The Adventures of Chatterer the Red 

Squirrel 

10. The Adventures of Sammy Jay 

11. The Adventures of Buster Bear 

12. The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad 

13. The Adventures of Prickly Porky 

14. The Adventures of Old Man Coyote 

15. The Adventures of Paddy the Beaver 

16. The Adventures of Poor Mrs. Quack 

17. The Adventures of Bobby Coon 

18. The Adventures of Jimmy Skunk 

{Other Volumes in preparation ) 

Illustrated by Harrison Cady. 16mo. Each 50 cts. net 


E ACH book in the series is devoted to the ad- 
ventures of one animal, and tells of his pranks 
and his good times, his troubles, his enemies, and 
his friends. The same charm of style and illustra- 
tion that made the “Old Mother West Wind 
Senes ” so successful is here displayed. Capital 
illustrations have been provided by Harrison Cad\i 



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